The Rise of the Republic
by Rayless Night
Summary: In theory, life should have finally settled down for Lord Zetta. Theories are nice things to have, aren't they? Fact: demon Overlords always have their enemies.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Well, here we are, back in the Makai Kingdom universe. This fic is very different from my other MK story, "Wishes"._

_1. (I love lists!) For one thing, it's not entirely centered on Salome. In fact, it's more about Zetta (this surprised me as much as anybody). Also, unlike "Wishes", it's not a very serious fic. I think that after detailing all the dark matter that went into the last few chapters of "Wishes", I was ready to lighten up. So while this story does deal with some important themes, it's mainly here to amuse you._

_2. Also, this story takes place exactly seven and a half months after the last scene of "Wishes" (or, in other words, about three years after the game). However, you don't need to have read "Wishes" to understand this one. It's a stand alone. Some characters I used before return for this story, but they're fairly minor. You do need to have a good working knowledge of the game's plot to understand all the strange things that transpire though._

_3. This is a note to my reviewer Bella. The character Trixabella was not named after you. I wrote this a month before I joined I couldn't un-name her, so please don't think I'm poking fun at you._

_4. And: NONE of this is canonical. It pains me to say it, but it is the truth. I know there are MK mangas and coloring books and playing cards and novels and maybe even breakfast cereals, but I've never seen any of them, so you can't hold me accountable._

_5. Yay! And now the author is shutting up!_

* * *

**The Rise of the Republic**

The most badass, freakin' Overlord in the cosmos was sitting in one of those twirly chairs. You know, the kind with a big padded seat that can tilt back to a comfortable angle and spin in every direction. The sort that you love to sit in when you're kid and spend as long as you can spinning around in it until you throw up; or, when you're older and responsible and concerned about deep things, and you're sitting in your twirly chair pondering _Civilization and Its Discontents_, and you think to yourself that it was probably just Freud who was pathological and the rest of the world is doing pretty fine without him.

Freud might have had a lot to say about the most badass freakin' Overlord in the universe; Lord Zetta probably wouldn't have let him get very far. Lord Zetta was sitting behind the writing desk of his arch-nemesis, Alexander the God of Destruction, leaning all the way back in Alex's twirly chair and examining his own crossed ankles on a stack of Alex's important outgoing mail.

_Damn, I wish he'd show up. _Zetta stared up at the ceiling, idly studying the broadly painted thunderbolts and storm clouds. He'd already glanced around the study, not much interested in the sleek, modern furniture, the wide windows, the oriental rug, the Ruskan idols on the white mantle and the three bamboo plants. Zetta picked up one of Alex's fancy silver, snake-headed pens and spun it in his fingers. _Damn kid. I thought for sure his spies would've told him I was up here._

Zetta swung his legs down from the desk and began to pace the length of the study, his boot heels sending up sparks where they impacted the smooth, marble floor. A small wind, totally independent of any atmosphere, perpetually kept Zetta's long, black cape in motion. Zetta crossed his arms over his bare chest and looked moodily out the window. A line of Alex's soldiers were marching below, "OoooooEEEEEoooo"ing to themselves. Zetta bared his fangs impatiently. He really didn't have time for this, not today. Not with Salome so close to-

But Alex had sent an assassin to dip Zetta's personal cereal spoon in strychnine that morning, and didn't even the Good Book say something about not letting an argument last longer than a day?

"Oh yeah." Zetta turned as he heard his nemesis' voice, full of good humor and muffled by the door that separated them. "You're gonna love the view from up here." The snazzy chrome door handle turned, and the door swung open. "Miles and miles of Netherworld. Let me just call for some champagne and-" Alex's eyes went round and narrowed sharply. "Zetta! What are _you_ doing here?"

"What the hell? What are you talking about? You tried to kill me just this morning."

"And I thought I'd succeeded!" Alex's fists were at his side, shaking with anger. "You're supposed to come_ immediately_ after you realize I've tried to kill you! It's almost evening now! I thought I'd finally obliterated you!"

Zetta put his hands on the area where most humanoids generally have a vaguely poochy area known as hips. Zetta, however, is one of those individuals with absolutely zero-percent unnecessary body-fat. "Always such a stickler for the rules, Alejandro. But I had more important stuff to deal with. As-" He raised his eyebrows. "I see you did too."

Trixabella peeked shyly around from Alex's shoulder and gave Zetta a small wave. She was a cute little succubus, and Zetta couldn't blame Alex for being peeved at any and all interruptions. So far, aside from the initial setback, things were going well.

"How did you get past my defenses?" Alex demanded, eyes going white and angular with cartoony rage.

Zetta spread his hands. "Most badass freaking Overlord in the Universe."

"THAT'S IT!" Alex whipped around to face Trixabella. "Just a moment, pudding." Then he whipped around to face Zetta. "RAGE OF THOR!" About twenty lightning bolts surged out of Alex and lifted Zetta off the ground. Zetta didn't have the most powerful Mana in the cosmos for his good looks though (which is a good thing for him, because that flaming hair...) and used the lightning to ride down on a surge of electricity towards his rival. By the time Zetta had his weapon (cleverly named the Zetta Sword) out, he got one good stab into Alex's chest. The God of Destruction shot into the air on a thundercloud and proceeding to make like an Italian winemaker, stamping out three lightning-bolts a second. Zetta made one or two dodges, got fed up and took to the air again, cutting through the cloud sword-first. Alex yowled and jumped back to the floor, face twisted in annoyance. Zetta landed on the opposite side.

"One of these days, Zetta," Alex breathed. "One of these days..."

"I can't wait. Have fun telling your friend all about it." With that Zetta transported out of Alex's study and onto the front steps of his own citadel in his own Netherworld.

Zetta took a moment to cast a cursory eye over the capital, the busy streets and the training compounds. No signs of any riots, no long line of petitioners come to plead for clemency or a scaling back the draft or no more taxes on oxygen or any other boneheaded ideas. Zetta scanned the sky, looking for any signs of encroaching rivals. No other Netherworlds were near except for his wife's, which was still crashed into the side of his own. Zetta frowned at the enormous green globe always visible on the horizon; it was practically his Netherworld by now, but wasn't he going to do something about it one of these weekends?

Zetta tromped indoors and was immediately greeted by the dogs Kitt and Kiboodl. Dogs is a very loose way of putting it; they're really only called dogs because they're capable of yapping without pausing for breath for a good forty minutes and because they won't leave Zetta alone. Kitt is actually more of a long, feathery, four-eyed black centipede, created by Salome to dust along the walls and shelves and vacuum anything small enough to fit through his small mouth. Salome is also responsible for Kiboodl, who is more like a large scrub brush than anything else. Kiboodl's raison d'être is to wash the floors, drooling water and floor soap of out his mouth, scrubbing with his stomach, and drying with his tail.

Zetta brushed past the adoring pets and tromped up the stories of his citadel to his own study. When he came to the doors, he opened them to find his wife curled up on the couch and talking to Dark Lord Valvoga.

Some husbands, especially highly powerful ones that happen to be demons, would be a bit discombobulated to find their beloved wives alone with rival Overlords, but Valvoga didn't count. Both Salome and Valvoga turned around at Zetta's entry, Micky clapped his hands. "You're back! Oh good, you can have some of my Sanguini Alfredo!"

Salome tapped the plate balanced on her knees, piled high with smoldering pasta in cream sauce. "I had a craving for Italian."

"It was Chinese last night," Zetta remarked, darting a quick look at her nine-months enlarged midriff. He'd accustomed himself to the fact several months ago that Salome had to lose her tiny waist (as she kept saying, it was his fault anyway). And while he was fully aware that Salome looked better pregnant than most woman do after a liposuction and several rounds of botox, he couldn't deny he'd be relieved as soon as the infant showed up.

"Thanks for bringing it over," he said wearily, dropping onto the couch.

"_No_ problem," Micky said cheerfully. "It just goes to show I'm the most powerful gourmand in the cosmos. If you want steak tomorrow, Salome, I can rustle up some good Minotaur meat."

"How do you feel?" Zetta asked quickly.

"Oh, chipper," Micky said.

"Not _you_!"

"Oh."

Salome waved her hand. "I feel fine. I don't think we need to worry." She gave him a quick smile that barely reached her red eyes. Just yesterday, Salome had slipped on some sliming ooze in one of the kitchens and fallen on her backside. There hadn't been any blood though, and the baby certainly hadn't stopped kicking.

"Still," Micky said, knotting his hands, forehead rumpled with concern. "You need to take it easy. This is your first pregnancy, and those are always chancy. Have you been taking your vitamins? Are you still doing yoga? It'll do you good, it really will."

Zetta got to his feet. "Lay off, Micky! She's fine!" He laughed shortly. "There's nothing to worry about. This is my kid we're talking about, remember? It'll take more than a little tumble to stop my DNA!" He made a fist. "The cockroach gene is _strong_ in this one!"

Salome sighed. "I really wish you wouldn't put it that- AGGGH!" Salome's face twisted in pain.

Zetta instantly had his arms around her. "Dammit! Micky, get a healer -NOW!"

"Uh -uh!" Micky fretted.

"She's _dying_, dammit, you better get a healer right now or I'm going to pull out your internal organs and strangle you with them!"

Salome took a deep breath. "No -Zetta -no, I'm fine."

Zetta's eyes were wild. "How can you be sure? You've never been pregnant before! You could be having contractions! You could be having fatal-"

"I have died before," Salome interrupted him. "Twice. And trust me that wasn't the third time." She ran a hand along her abdomen and winced. "I think the baby was casting a low-level fire spell in there."

Zetta's face melted a moment or two. "The little tyke... STOP FRYING YOUR MOTHER! YOU WANNA BE GROUNDED THE FIRST MONTH OF YOUR LIFE?"

"I've read that a baby in the womb can hear its mother's voice," Ophelia commented from the region of Micky's waist. "This one will be pretty well acquainted with Daddy too."

"Okay, I think it's time for you three to shove off," Zetta suggested.

Ophelia curved her smile beneath her perpetually shut eyes. "Ah, fathers are always irritable when they're pregnant."

"That's it."

"Zetta!" Micky wailed, the light of Zetta's Mana bright in his eyes. "No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-!"

Zetta sat down and put his arms back around Salome as they watched Valvoga crash backwards through the wall, slam down several galleries, through the side of the citadel and out into the black cosmos.

"I'll get the architects on it," Zetta promised.

"I just hope he's fit to bring dinner around tomorrow." Salome put her Sanguini Alfredo down on the coffee table and leaned back against Zetta. "How did it go with Alex?"

"Per usual."

"Hm. Next move will be yours. Any ideas?"

Zetta crossed his ankle on his knee. "Nothing yet. I mean, after sixteen and a half centuries of conflict, it's hard to think of new ways to assassinate your enemy. Even Alex is slipping; this is about the third time he's poisoned my cereal spoon."

Salome laced her long fingers over her stomach. "Well, now that you're here, we should really try deciding on a name."

Zetta sighed and rubbed his neck. "Hmm...You really don't like Zetta Junior?"

"I really don't. Besides, it_ could_ be a girl."

"We could still call her Zetta Junior."

"But we're not."

"Well, all right. You got any ideas?"

"I was thinking something nice and low-key. Maybe Lucifer if it's a boy, and Lilith if it's a girl."

Zetta thought about it and shook his head. "Salome, this kid's going to be the product of the two most powerful Overlords in the universe. Its name can't be 'nice and low-key'."

"Point taken. Your turn."

"How about...hmmm, how about... How about Ultimeteo?"

Salome looked up from Zetta's shoulder with a pained expression. "This is our baby, Zetta. Don't we want what's best for it?"

"Fine, fine, you could just say 'no'."

Salome reached back and rubbed Zetta's collarbone thoughtfully. "There are plenty of ways to name a baby. For instance, it should be born in a few weeks. We could name it after the month." She frowned. "Forgive me, but I'm pregnant. What month is it?"

"Jejune."

Salome frowned. "Well then, we could name it after the month it was conceived. That would be..."

"Ughtuber."

Salome grimaced. "Well...we could name it after the place where it was conceived."

"Er...you wanna call our baby Bedroom?"

Salome's fingers jerked to box his ears. "No. I mean, let's see, last Ughtuber... We were out conquering part of Babylon's Netherworld. We were in that desert, weren't we? The one with the mummies and enormous dungbeetles. And we'd holed up in that old sandstone fortress, remember? What was it called?"

Zetta had collected Salome's plate and was busy finishing her dinner. "Fort Slaughterdale."

"Oh. Well then, I have no good ideas. Your turn."

Zetta propped his feet on the coffee table and slurped up a noodle. "Anyone we admire enough to name our kid after them?"

"No."

"Yeah, thought so. Still say we should name it after me."

Salome reached around and reclaimed the fork, complete with Zetta's next forkful. She chewed a bit. "This is delicious. Maybe...maybe we should name the baby Alfredo."

* * *

Later that night, while snug in his orange pj's, tucked under the covers and fast asleep in bed, Zetta was having one of those stereotypical protagonist dreams. Yup, there he was, thrashing around, face contorted in frustration, while, somewhere between his tattooed eyes and his big ears and his heaps of flaming hair, he was dreaming that he was running down a dark, stone corridor after a flaring golden fire. He sprinted, feet slapping the pavement, breath punching his chest, but the fire came no closer. He _had_ to get to it. The softly chanting music in the background made that clear enough. But -it -came -no -closer!

"No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!" Zetta wailed, lunging forward in slow motion as the fire went out. Then, instead of landing shnozz-first on the cold stone pavement, he found himself in a lush field of pastel flowers under a vivid blue sky. Well, that was enough to make any Overlord's stomach roll over, but just as he'd started to gag, he saw Salome bounding across the field of flowers towards him. And Salome's waist was back under twenty-inches around! And she was wearing a bikini! Okay, that was more like it!

"No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!" Zetta wailed, lunging forward in slow motion as the ground opened up and swallowed Salome whole. Zetta reached the spot just as the ground was shutting itself up again, in time to hear it burp and boom "YUM." Zetta was scrabbling furiously at the ground with the fingernails of one hand, using the other hand to hack away at the ground with his sword, using not a single brain cell to remember that he was this maniac Mana beast and could blow the planet to confetti if he wanted to, when all the daisies and tulips and morning glories around him popped out of the ground and brandished chainsaws at him. In a second, they were on him, chainsaws buzzing angrily, and suddenly the ground was opening up again, pulling him into darkness while the flowers cackled like demented kindergartners and the earth was closing back up again and that was pretty bad but maybe he could find Salome down here and save her from-

"No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!" Zetta wailed, lunging forward in slow motion as water closed over his head and the world turned into a long trail of bubbles. Zetta surfaced, gasping for air, and it was then that he heard Salome frantically shouting his name. Zetta glanced around, desperately seeking Salome, but all he could see was churning waves and darkness. He thought, maybe, her voice was coming from his left, so he struck out across the water towards her voice, cutting through the waves like a-

"No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!" Zetta wailed, lunging forward in slow motion as he realized_ he was the Sacred Tome again!_ "No!" Zetta cried as he went under the waves, pages flapping helplessly, water seeping through his binding, gluing his pages together, making his ink run in black rivulets through the thrashing water. He spiraled downward into watery darkness, his front cover hopelessly facing the surface, his eyes fixed on the line of bubbles that followed him to his doom-

Zetta snorted and came awake. He blinked through the darkness and eventually made out Salome's face. She'd been shaking him. "Heh?"

"Zetta." She gripped his arm. "My water broke."


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Notes: Thank you all for the quick flurry of hits and reviews. And thanks, Bella, it's good to know I'm not messing with canon. Yet. Because Disgaea 2 is approaching with several cameos by at least three of the Makai Overlords, and I've just heard about an announced Nippon Ichi game called Makai Wars that is slated for the PS3... So I better enjoy being free from canon while I can._

2

Zetta was pacing, again. Even though he was barefoot and still in his pajamas, little sparks struck off his heels wherever he stepped and a small whirling wind played with the cuffs of his pants. He'd shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking and was trying to not to stare at any one thing too long; the intensity of his gaze had already shriveled three houseplants, a footstool and six demon servants. He stopped in his pacing a moment, gazed furiously at the tightly closed doors of his own bedroom, and resumed walking the hall.

"Zetta, I'm here with the coffee."

"Thanks." Zetta mechanically took the mug from Micky (who wasn't the sort of demon general that ever held grudges; Ophelia and Dryzen on the other hand...) and slurped.

Micky tapped his twenty fingers together nervously. "Any news?"

"No," Zetta answered, voice a bit hoarse.

"It's only been a few hours," Ophelia spoke up. "You can't expect these things to be rushed."

"Dammit." Zetta ground his teeth. Maybe Salome's fall had bumped the baby's head. Maybe the baby's head had a lump. Maybe the lump had swollen. Maybe the baby's head was so big it couldn't fit through. Maybe one of those damn healers was going to take a knife and cut his beautiful Salome open-

"I'll get you a new mug," Micky offered, cleaning up the ceramic fragments with one set of hands, the other set blotting at the spilled coffee with a handkerchief.

"Well, well, are you handing cigars out yet, Zetta?" a new voice boomed.

Zetta pivoted, then relaxed. At least, he relaxed about the intruder, though he wasn't particularly pleased. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

King Drake the Third clapped a furry arm around Zetta's shoulders. "I thought you might need my moral support! After all, I've gone through childbirth myself before and-"

"You did?"

"Well...the wife did. Er, ex-wife. But still, I thought you might need my soothing presence. You want the advice of an experienced father. What's this stain? Have you been drinking coffee? No good, Zetta, no good. You need warm milk. And maybe some laudanum."

Zetta took a moment to tie Drake's arms into a complicated boyscout's knot. "Oh my," Babylon rumbled as he appeared, trying not to shake the citadel as he passed through the hallway, "I'm glad _I_ don't have limbs."

Zetta looked up from Drake and took the time to calm himself. You had to be respectful to the oldest Overlord in the universe, even if only to his face. "Glad you could make it, Babylon. Er...why are you here?"

"Eh, well." He shrugged (I'll let you imagine how). "This sort of thing doesn't happen every century. And, well... to tell the truth, I'm a little curious as to whether Salome's going to live through this."

Micky dropped the mug he'd just brought up. "Babylon! Don't say that! Zetta'll go on a rampage!"

"Well..." Babylon grimaced. "I don't enjoy saying this, but Salome does have a habit of dying. And, well, an already-dead human having a demon's baby? Sounds like some third-rate cult classic horror movie to me."

"Why should she die?" Zetta demanded, voice a little high. "Why the hell should she _die_?"

"I'm not saying anything, I just-" Babylon started backing away. "Er, I'm really not saying anything. Um, don't listen to me, just a rambling old fogey- Zetta, you really don't want to kill me, it could distract Salome!"

Zetta cut his Mana spell. Reluctantly.

"Oh _please_, none of you guys should worry. What will happen will happen."

Zetta whipped around, eyes staring bright at the new arrival. "Pram! Do you have any predictions?"

Pram the Oracle spun around, letting her long white hair swirl. "Sure. I predict that Salome will not give birth to a small elephant."

Zetta seethed. "If that's all the help you're going to be -Will she live?"

Pram examined her dark purple nails and sighed. "Eh, well, is there any particular reason you think she shouldn't?"

"An Oracle should know that. I think Pram's a fraud," Babylon mentioned, but, conveniently, nobody else ever heard, and Babylon eventually forgot all about it.

"Knowing Salome," Drake grunted, trying to get his arms out of their knot, "this might be part of some other death plan of hers. Maybe she... y'know, _wants_ the baby to kill her. She's strange like that."

"And maybe it's part of _my_ plan," Zetta suggested, "to want to kill you."

"T'uh! Stop worrying, everyone." Pram flipped a lock of hair over her shoulder. "What happens, happens. If Salome and the baby pull through this, fine. If they both die, well, more cosmos for the rest of us."

Micky had come back with the coffee pot in one hand and three spare mugs. "Okay, Zetta," he said. "Drink _this_ one, nice and slow. I put bat's blood in it, Echidna's Milk and some brimstone."

Zetta took the mug and downed it in one gulp. "What time is it?"

"About an hour til dawn." Pram made a pretense of yawning.

Zetta crossed his arms while watching Micky refill the mug. "How long is it supposed to take to have a baby?"

"I know the answer," Drake spoke up, having finally liberated his arms from each other. "Well, that is, I know how long it took for my ex-wife to give birth."

Pram sniffed. "A lot of help you are."

"She didn't take _long enough_, in my opinion," Drake snarled at Pram. Then, back to Zetta: "She was about, oh, thirty hours or so."

"Thirty hours?" Zetta repeated. He took the coffee mug back from Micky and considered knocking himself out with it.

Around eight-thirty in the morning, Zetta tried to gain admittance to his own bedroom by saying he needed his clothes. An Overlord couldn't claim to be badass _or_ freakin' in his jammies. The three healers, Raia, Acantha and Asperis, were unimpressed with his argument but eventually consented to hand his black leather pants, his black leather jacket, his black leather boots, his belts, his chains, his cape and his bright orange socks through the doggie door (and then Kitt and Kiboodl bounded enthusiastically in, and Zetta could hear them greeting Salome with a chorus of yaps).

"Salome? Salome!" Zetta tried calling through the doggie door.

Asperis slammed it shut in his face. "No upsetting her."

"Dammit!" Zetta shouted. "I'm not going to upset her!" Then he whirled around and blasted away half of the nearest staircase.

Around noon, Pram decided that none of them could stand watching Zetta fret like this much longer, so she contacted Alex and had him attack the margins of Zetta's Netherworld. Zetta stared blackly at the Oracle's face as she relayed this new presentiment.

"Right." Zetta bared his fangs and snarled. "Well, it's something to do."

He came back around two thirty, covered with a bit of blood (not his own). "Any news?"

Babylon, Valvoga, Drake and Pram, all grouped around a table in the front foyer, looked up from their game of poker and shook their heads.

Zetta paced outside his bedroom for another hour and a half, and when he came back downstairs, he found Alex had joined the group. The God of Destruction held up his hand before Zetta could as much as glower. "Ain't here to fight. Just curious."

Pram shook her head. _And because he's been fretting his head off over Zetta_.

Micky smiled at Zetta and handed him some coffee. "Isn't it nice to have moral support?"

Zetta crushed the mug in one hand, then ground the shards together between his palms. "Just swell. And -just so you all know." He looked steadily at each of them. "If Salome and the baby die, I'm going to vent my grief by taking your Netherworlds one by one and slaughtering you all over a period of the next few centuries. Got it?"

"You know," Babylon spoke up then, "my physician has been with me for a long time. I bet he's seen plenty of unusual cases. Er, where's your hellephone? I'll call him."

Micky put his palms together. "Salome likes my candied deadly nightshade. I think I'll go down to the kitchen and cook her up some."

"Don't worry, Zetta. She'll be fine. I said so, and _I'm_ Pram the Oracle."

Drake snorted. "Well, I'm not holding out much hope. She's a human. Humans have enough trouble giving birth to their own babies."

A few moments later, Alex crossed his arms. "Er, are you going to just leave Drake tied up in the chandelier like that?"

Zetta glanced up at the iron chandelier arms that had been laced around the Lion Overlord, particularly the large candle that had been shoved down Drake's throat. "If you can think of some better place to put him, go ahead."

Around eleven-thirty that night, Zetta was spreading out his blood red sleeping bag in front of his bedroom door. "If anything happens," he told Micky, "I'm going to be right here."

"What good are you going to be?" Ophelia scoffed as Micky vainly wished he had the guts to clap all four of his hands over her mouth just once.

Zetta's eyes glittered dangerously, but he went back to fluffing his pillow. "I'm the most _badass, freaking Overlord in the universe!_ You think there's anything that can happen that I can't stop?"

"Here," Micky said. "Here's the coffee pot. And here's a titanium mug. Ophelia and Dryzen and I have been put in the mauve room, so if you need anything, just bellow."

"I think he needs a pacifier," Ophelia observed.

And Dryzen, who has been uncharacteristically silent throughout this story, finally thought of something to say: "BRAAA-hahahaHA!"

* * *

"Mrrrphm," said Zetta. "Mgluffilim." He rolled over in his sleeping bag, but Kitt and Kiboodl were used to this sort of response. Kiboodl hopped over Zetta's back, and Kitt ran along the ceiling and down the wall so they were facing him again. They recommenced washing his face.

Zetta snorted. "Whuh? Huh...Whose -whose tongue is in my ear?" His eyes blinked rapidly open.

They met the bright eager eyes of Kitt and Kiboodl, then the world was overwhelmed in moist blue tongues.

"Gwaaah!" Zetta thrashed upright, swatting at the pets, which continued to yip exultantly. Master is acknowledging us! Master loves us! Master wants to play!

"Get _off_ me you-"

Kiboodl rolled over in Zetta's lap and wiggled his tummy ingratiating. Kitt raced up Zetta's arm and curled cozily around his neck.

We love you too, Master!

"Yarrgh!" Zetta grabbed Kitt by both ends, whipped him over his head and tossed Kitt down the length of the hall and a then a bit more.

Wheee! Master has sent me flying!

Yay! Master wants to play 'fetch' with Kitt again! I shall retrieve him, Master!

Zetta watched irritably as Kiboodl went falumphing down the hallway after Kitt, leaving a wet ribbon of water and floor soap in his wake.

"Damn," Zetta muttered, looking down at himself and fumbling for the right spell to dry his clothes. That accomplished, he scratched his back and wondered what time it was. _Maybe I should bellow for Micky._

"Ah -la! Ah-la! Ah-la-waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

_Nah. Sounds like Micky's having nightmares again._

Zetta jumped, eyes going wide. "Wait a minute!"

The door clicked open, revealing Asperis' humorless face. She found her Overlord already standing, sleeping bag in disarray. "Everything's copacetic."

Zetta's mouth moved a few times before any words came out. "What does that mean?"

"It's cool."

Zetta capsized the patient healer as he dashed inside. He barely avoided tripping over her as he careened towards the bed. The lamps were lit, and he could clearly see Salome lying under the covers, looking pale and limp.

He slowed down (a bit) when he dropped to his knees at her side (it's just as well none of the other Overlords were there). "Salome? Salome?" He stared, tense, at her closed eyes and the cold film of sweat on her face and shoulders.

She smiled first, and slowly her eyes blinked their way open.

"Salome..." Zetta whispered, trying to speak while his heart was rapidly refilling itself. "I've been-"

"Yipyipyipyipyipyipyip!"

Zetta swept Kitt and Kiboodl off the bed with one pass of his arm. Asperis the Wise had carried both dogs out into the hallway and closed the door by the time Zetta gathered his wife in his arms and was kissing every inch of available skin. By the time he'd worked his way around to the inside of her left wrist, he noticed her murmuring something about being "a little tired".

Zetta dropped her back onto the pillow. "Sorry! Yes! Rest! Get well! Don't die!" About then he had a swift impulse to hit himself over the head with a lampstand. While he didn't follow through with the notion, it did serve to reassert his customary composure (if that's what we're going to call it).

Salome laughed softly. "You were worried."

Zetta scowled. "Not at all! Hell, like I couldn't trust you to give birth to a kid! Speaking of which, uh-" He looked uncertainly around.

Salome took advantage of Zetta's momentary distraction to play with his fingers. "Raia and Acantha are washing him."

Zetta's hand clenched hers. "Magog! 'Him'?"

"It...had to be one or the other, Zetta."

"Well, yeah, but-" Zetta glanced abstractedly down at her then over towards the bathroom.

"Don't be afraid, Zetta. I'm sure he won't hurt you."

"I'm not afraid!"

"Ah-blub-blub-buh," emanated from the bathroom.

Zetta sucked in his breath, fangs bared for a moment. Kitt and Kiboodl, waddling back through the doggie door, had never seen Master so worried, not even that time when the citadel had been infested with acid-drooling mice.

Then Raia came out of the door holding something that appeared to be a large, black croissant in her arms. Zetta's heart did one painful high-kick in his chest as he realized the croissant was his kid wrapped in its requisite Swaddling Cloth (colored black). Wordlessly, Raia handed the croissant to Salome. Wordlessly, Salome handed the croissant to Zetta.

Zetta looked down into the croissant's face and really wasn't ever quite the same again.

* * *

For some daft reason that escaped everyone but the euphoric parents (and even they only understood it for a limited period of time), Zetta and Salome chose to name their newborn son after the Aztec god of darkness and sorcery, that is, Tezcatlipoca. It struck them as a good name, unique, polysyllabic and yielding any number of useful nicknames. About two hours later, Salome still hadn't gotten a chance to rest because she and Zetta were still curled up, gloating over their little heir to darkness and destruction.

"Look at this!" Zetta hooted. "I can't believe this, look at his hands!"

"What?" Salome asked, wondering if there had been any claws or webbing that she'd missed.

"Look! He's got five fingers! He's got five fingers on each hand!"

Salome frowned at her husband. "He's supposed to."

"I know!" Zetta exulted. "We managed to get it right on the first try!"

Salome smiled fondly at the little demon prince who was fast asleep while his parents were busy worshipping. "I love his eyes." She traced his closed lids with a gentle finger. Tez's eyes were the same color as hers but, like Zetta's, were as bright as fire and lacked anything approaching pupils or irises. "Pure red eyes are so classic."

"Yeah. We'll tattoo him in a day or so."

"What? Tattoo _my_ baby?"

Zetta frowned at her. "You want him to have just these two red dots on his face?"

Salome took a moment to imagine Zetta's face without the tattoos that surrounded each eye; she winced. "You're right."

"I like his hair," Zetta went on. The kid was consistent, at least they could say that. His hair was blonde, like Salome's, but, like Zetta's, it was perpetually on fire (a warm, pleasant to the touch fire. At least at the moment. As soon as this kid discovered how to throw a tantrum...)

"You never told me that demons were born with their teeth." Salome gently lifted the baby's upper lip, revealing a set of jet black, rounded fangs. The rest of his teeth were pearly white and, at this age, relatively blunt.

Zetta was watching with amazement as Tez's right hand curled around his finger, even when deep in sleep. Salome smiled at him. "Are you happy?"

"Yeah," Zetta said after a moment. He gently extracted his finger from his son's grasp and stood up, looking at the two of them. He shook himself. "Damn, Salome, you've been awake for what, twenty-four hours? Get some sleep!"

Salome's face went bland. "While I can. He'll be due for a feeding in about...too soon."

Zetta turned out the light as soon as mother and baby were both deep asleep and shuffled out onto the balcony. He didn't think he could sleep. He wasn't sure he'd ever be calm enough to sleep again.


	3. Chapter 3

3

"Of course," Zetta was saying, "the last thing I'm going to do is make life easy for him. He can come to me for tips and stuff, but conquering his own Netherworld is up to _him_."

Micky took a moment to align the tip of his cosmic pool cue with a small planet called Narcissus. "You really aren't going to help at all?"

Zetta was sharpening his own cue. "Well... maybe I'll let him practice on some parts of my own realm. But I'm going to stock them with some pretty kickass monsters. Things that aren't afraid to maul an intruder a bit. See it as my duty as a dad, you know? Toughen him up. 'Course," he thought, "if he's dumb enough to try conquering before he has any real Mana, I'm going to-"

Ophelia winced as Micky shot Narcissus. The pale pink planet whizzed forward, plinked into several asteroids and a satellite, and came securely to rest in a black hole. "Whoo hoo!" Micky cried.

Ophelia winced again, then smoothed her face over as she addressed Zetta. "And what does Salome think of that?"

"Huh? What are you talking about? She was my apprentice, she's used to my teaching methods. Hell, she's an Overlord herself. She's not going to hold back on his education."

Micky waited until Zetta had made his shot (sending two minor planets and several large potatoes that had been put there to look like asteroids into another black hole) before asking if Salome was doing all right and was still up on her yoga.

"She seems fine. Granted, I haven't seen much of her. She's usually asleep or feeding the kid."

"She should be doing her yoga," Micky said firmly. "It brings total peace of mind and body." He sighed. "Maybe someday, Ophelia and Dryzen will let me take it up myself."

"GRAA-HAAAH!" (I am very ready to admit that I don't have a lot of use for Dryzen in this story.)

Zetta came home from his pool game and took his soldiers out for a fifty-mile duck-walk after stuffing them full of chocolate cake. By the time Zetta was striding (no duck-walk for him) under his front gates, his demon horde was shuffling along on its collective backside, faintly flapping its knuckles across the flagstones and making a beeline for the nearest vomitorium. Feeling brisk and fit, Zetta strutted up his front steps, strutted inside, and strutted downstairs to get a tall cool glass of Chopicana orange juice.

The Supreme Overlord of the cosmos was rinsing his glass out in one of the many sinks when he heard a soft step behind him. Zetta's nerves curled up in surprise, and the about-face he made wasn't one of those cool, nonchalant ones.

But his nerves relaxed almost immediately, though his mind was fairly confused. "You look vaguely familiar. Who are you? And why are you stupid enough to seek me out?"

She stared down at her black sandals and her toes, which were painted metallic purple. Zetta jerked his eyes off her feet, up to her bare thighs... lingered up the sparkly black leather mini-skirt...got slowed up again on her taut stomach and bright red halter top and eventually found their way back up to her face, which was heart-shaped and framed by short, deliberately messy purple hair. She smiled, showing teeth barely sharp enough to qualify as fangs, and looked shyly up out of pinky-red eyes. Zetta's eyes darted to the bat wings at her shoulders and the long, spear-like tail. Oh. A succubus. A very cute succubus. In his kitchen.

He cleared his throat, with an effort. "Answer the questions!"

"Don't you remember me?" she asked, with one of those cute, girly voices. And pouted.

Zetta's heart seemed to die right in the middle of a backflip and land with a plop somewhere in his stomach. Right here, in the kitchen, was his past finally coming back to haunt him? Which one was_ this_?

And suddenly he figured out how to breathe again. This was okay. "You're Alex's girl. Trixasomething?"

"Trixabella."

"Yeah." Okay, that was fine, no guilt there. Wait a minute, no it wasn't! "What the hell are you doing here?" he thundered, flames roaring around his head.

Trixabella backed away, eyes wide with fear. "I mean no harm!"

"Yeah right! Why did Alex send you?"

"He didn't!" Trixabella covered her face for a moment, then looked tentatively through her fingers at Zetta. "I came of my own free will."

Zetta looked at her uneasily. "Oh. Well. I'm not...keeping succubi anymore, so you should... get going."

Trixabella slumped. Her little wings fluttered disconsolately.

Zetta made a vague shooing gesture. "Move along, er, little succubus."

"Alex," Trixabella whispered tearfully, "was so mean. I -I can't go back to him."

"Not my problem."

The succubus wailed and threw herself at his feet. Zetta, having not experienced this sort of thing since the days before the Sacred Tome/Trenia/The One/Salome Going Postal business, was halfway enjoying it and halfway wondering how he was going to get her _out_ of his Netherworld.

"Please!" Trixabella cried. "Don't send me away! Please, I'll do anything!"

"Er-" Trixabella had grabbed Zetta's ankles, and he was having trouble not falling over. "Get up, will you? Get up!"

She got up and clutched the front of his jacket. Not much better, all things considered. "Don't send me back to him," she whispered.

"I don't care where you go," Zetta insisted. "Go say hi to Drake, or Babylon or Micky or-" He pushed her away by the shoulders.

Trixabella stumbled back a few steps and looked forlornly down at the pale green linoleum. "But," she whispered, "I want to be with _you_. You're the most powerful Overlord in the cosmos." Her lower lip, which was pink, moist and very plump, began to quiver. "No one else could protect me from -from Alex. Only_ you're_ strong enough."

Well, Zetta had trouble coming up with an argument to that one. He _was_ the most powerful, no contest. The very thought of his own might gave him a warm glow and made him smile in self-satisfaction. Trixabella had pegged him right. And, dammit, she _was_ cute.

Trixabella had tip-toed back over to him, with him hardly noticing. He did notice, however, when she leaned back against his chest, snuggled against him and purred, "I'll do _anything_."

Twenty-three stories up in the citadel, above the kitchens and the foyer and the receiving halls and two libraries and one lecture hall and sixteen torture chambers and the indoor swimming pool, Salome, who'd been fast asleep, sat up in bed and wondered why the left side of her face was twitching so violently.

The left side of Zetta's face twitched in one convulsive spasm. "Yikes!" He jumped about twelve feet and landed at the far end of his kitchen. By then, despite his shaking knees, he was getting his stern face on. _Remember Salome? Your beloved? The one you were willing to die for? Focus, Zetta!_ "That's enough!"

Trixabella drooped again.

Zetta got his eyes off her miniskirt and down to her feet, which seemed to be the only safe areas of her anatomy. "No! Don't -don't even_ try_ that! Get going, I don't care the hell where!"

Trixabella sighed. "Even you can't deny, Zetta, that you're worth a try." She evaporated out of the kitchen.

Zetta stared at the floor she'd been standing on for a long time. Then he crossed quickly back to the refrigerator, took out the orange juice again and went hunting for the bourbon.

* * *

Zetta had been aware for some time that he had a Hero's party traipsing through his Netherworld. Valvoga, in the big Christmas-season rush of new RPG titles, had signed a few too many contracts to follow through on, and so had asked some of his friends to help with the surfeit. Zetta had agreed with minimal persuasion to be the dark lord for _Omens of Oblivion: Omega LXV_, but had taken the initiative to black out the sentence in his contract demanding that he let the Hero win in the end.

Some of his patrols had come around the next morning saying that the Hero (some name, they couldn't remember what, but he had spiky blond hair, blue eyes, a big sword and seemed to be around the magic Hero age of seventeen) was approaching the citadel. He, Zetta, was Lord Ormangoth, a fierce sorcerer who sought to destroy the world because he was a Marxist (Not that the game's script put it just that way. But it was just the old thesis, antithesis, synthesis thing. Nothing ever got accomplished until it was entirely destroyed. Bwa ha, _suffer_, insignificant mortals!)

"_That's_ my motive?"

Mordy, a sentryman, shrugged.

Zetta snapped his fingers and lit the script on fire. "Forget this. The hero's never met me before. I'll wing it." He stomped up to his throne room, which the good people at Hexagramsoft had festooned in a ghastly blend of medieval and neo-punk goth (it goes to say that they'd taken one look at Zetta's outfit and loved him). Zetta shooed everyone out of his throne room and plunked himself down on the great chair itself. He crossed his ankle on his knee and boredly watched the strobe lights flash and the neon blue graphics writhe overhead. He'd stocked the citadel with some of the soldiers and monsters that were free this morning and listened on the intercom as the Hero battled his way up through the floors. Zetta looked through his CD collection, trying to decide on the several battle themes that would be necessary. He'd just slipped in a track of foreboding organ music when the door to his throne room crashed open.

Six people rushed in. Zetta wasn't in the least alarmed. With the growing trend for more expensive and time-consuming graphics in RPGs, most series had scaled back their battle-parties to a measly three people. Zetta gauged each of them -there was a hulking big man with pectorals the size of small continents, granite bangles, ratty loincloth and two stone axes that were at least as heavy as himself. There was a tall, long-haired bishi with pale skin, fine features and piercing eyes, decked out in ultra-articulated platemail and wielding a six-foot long sabre. There was a short kid with cat ears that was cute enough to be male or female (and, regardless of gender, was probably voice-acted by an adult woman) that was swinging a round-tipped baton behind its knees. There was a silver-haired female mage in a slinky purple dress that had been deliberately torn open in deliberate places. She had a long staff angled in one hand. There was a big-eyed brunette decked out with a pink bow and a mini-skirt; even her crossbow was pink. She had to be the love-interest; girls like that only exist to be love-interests. And then there was the Hero on point, blue eyes blazing.

Zetta concluded his assessment. Based on what he knew of young men, the ending party would be the Hero, the love-interest and the sexy witch. No problems there. Zetta rose from his throne, tucked the remote control for the boom box into his pocket and put his hands on his hips. "Well. You made it. I'm so glad."

The Hero was puffing with exertion. "This is it, Ormangoth! Your path of destruction ends here!"

Zetta crossed his arms. What to say, what to say...

"I'll never forgive you for killing my father!"

Didn't this kid talk in anything other than clichés? Zetta uncrossed his arms, flaring his cape. For a moment, he wished he'd bothered to remember the Hero's name. It would've made this dialogue so much more authentic. Oh well.

"Little boy." Zetta took a moment to laugh. "I didn't _kill_ your father."

"You did!" he hollered. "The Old Man of the Shining Well told me!"

"Well, he was on something, because I didn't kill your father." Zetta let his eyes blaze. "I AM your father!"

Surreptitiously, he clicked the remote towards the boom box. The organ dirge was interrupted by the sound of piano falling.

"No," the Hero gasped. Then, throwing his head back with his fingers clenched: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"How can this be?" the love-interest squeaked.

Zetta had the organ music resume. "Actually, it's a very simple process."

"I've been fighting you so long," the Hero said, voice thick with angst. "I've hated you! And all this time you were -you were-"

"Yeah." Zetta shook his head. "Well, what about me? I've been building power. I've been amassing the forces of darkness. I've been slaughtering the innocent. All this time, my son's been a _chump_!"

The glorified flatiron that the Hero called his Armageddon-Exalted Sword was angled at Zetta. "That's it! Father or no father -I'll never forgive you!"

Zetta shrugged. "You're a teenager."

"We're ending this now! I won't let you live to harm another person!"

"All right!" Zetta said with relish. He raised his fist, enveloping it with bloody red flames. With his other hand, he switched tracks to a battle theme with about six techno arrangements. "That's what I like to hear, son!"

The Hero raised his sword above his head. He was enveloped in a shaft of white light. "Warriors of the Morning, aid me in battle!"

The love-interest had her crossbow cocked. "For his sake, I will not fail!"

"Crimson Carnage!" Zetta shouted.

"Overlord...?" Asperis said tentatively.

No one broke his pose, but everyone turned to look at the healer. She had Tezzy, dressed in his Li'l Devil Romper, leaning against her shoulder.

"Er..._yes_, minion of darkness?"

"He needs to be burped. Milady's in the shower."

"Why don't you burp him?"

"Well, the dogs upchucked on your pillow."

Zetta sighed. "All right." Asperis first handed him a cloth to cover his shoulder and then handed him the baby. Zetta propped Tezzy against his shoulder and commenced patting his wee little back.

"What is-?" The Hero asked breathlessly. All the good guys had dropped their poses. "What is-?"

Zetta looked up. "Hm? Oh, it's my kid."

The Hero reeled. "You mean -you mean -my _brother_?"

"I guess that follows."

"Aww," the love-interest cooed. "He's so cuuuuute!"

The Hero whirled on her. "Be quiet, Elena!" Zetta sighed a little impatiently. Why was it every video game seemed to have an "Elena" in it these days?

Tezzy burped up a bit on the cloth. Zetta, being fairly well-versed in the nuances of his son's digestive track, continued patting. "So, you got a world to save or what?"

"What about-" the Hero took a deep breath and his eyes grew watery "-my brother?"

With his free hand, Zetta withdrew the Zetta Sword. "He'll be fine."

"I'll save you, baby brother!" The Hero shouted, and thus the battle was joined. As Zetta had anticipated, the hulk, the bishi and the cat thing retreated to the far end of the room and just watched as the Hero and the two girls rushed forward. Zetta raised his sword with a sweep of fire Mana. Through the wall of smoke, he could see that both girls were readying magic spells. The Hero was almost on him. Zetta met the flatiron with a room-shaking strike, sparks arcing between the blades.

"You'll _never _win," Zetta growled. "The world is mine! I'll turn you all into squirrels!"

"No! Never!"

"Hyaaaaa hahahaha!" Zetta kicked the Hero into the air, than rose after him, carried on a wave of Mana. After rearranging the Hero a bit with his sword blade, Zetta landed in time to feel the effect of the witch's thunder attack. He was aware of Elena healing the party.

Ah, well. It was always fun to kill the beloved one first.

Zetta's spear of Mana flew towards Elena as if she were its magnet. Elena was thrown about twelve feet into the air, then her smoking body slumped gracefully (and bloodlessly) to the floor. "No!" the Hero cried.

Zetta frowned in annoyance as the battle came to a hiatus. He impatiently cut the battle theme and switched to something with sweet, soaring violins and piano notes that fell like tears.

The Hero was cradling Elena. "No! Why -why did you do this?"

"She was curing you. First rule of any RPG battle is to eliminate the healer."

"Elena -Elena is gone. She'll never laugh, or cry, or get kidnapped again."

"Can we get on with the fight?"

The Hero leapt to his feet. "I'll _never_ forgive you!"

"Good. I'll restart the battle music."

"YAAAARGH!"

Zetta dodged the Hero's sword stroke and took the opportunity to stab him through the shoulder. Since only empty space now separated Zetta's sword point and the slinky-witch, he cast a lightning-spell through the sword and into her. The slinky-witch screamed and dropped to the floor in an elegant sprawl.

"NOOOOO!" The Hero jerked free of Zetta's sword. Again, the battle music was cut as he limped over to the slinky-witch. "You've killed my _other_ love-interest! Now I'm going to have to have an ending with the cat!" He dropped to his knees by the witch's side. "Vedalia... Vedalia!"

"Nimbus?" she murmured.

"Don't speak, Vedalia!"

"I'm dying anyway."

"Vedalia! NOOO!"

"Fight Ormangoth. You must stop him-"

"Vedalia!"

"For me! Live on, for me!"

As far as Zetta was concerned, those sort of lines had only ever been moving when whispered from the lips of his dying wife. As it was, he cleared his throat. "Five more seconds, and then I'm putting the music back on."

As Vedalia expired, Nimbus cast one anguished glance at the hulk, the bishi and the cat thing (but what could they do? He hadn't officially called them into the party, so it was their place to stand back passively and watch him die) before swinging body and sword around to face Zetta. "This," he panted, "is it."

"Finally."

And then, they both paused.

After a moment, they looked around.

"Oh," Zetta said. "Wait a second." He placed Tezzy down on the throne and proceeded to undo his romper. After a moment, he removed the soiled diaper and incinerated it. He reached into the diaper bag beside the throne (wisely, Salome had ordered diaper bags to be placed in every room of the citadel), and rebound his son's nether regions. He buttoned up the romper, put Tezzy back against his shoulder and turned around to face Nimbus. "Okay."

"YAAAAARGH!" Nimbus rushed towards him, mouth open, sword hoisted, eyes glittering with determination. Zetta put out one finger and poked the air in front of Nimbus' face. The Hero fell backwards. Zetta jumped into the air, did a backflip while Tezzy gurgled, withdrew his sword and landed point first into Nimbus.

"Hey," the bishi said. "You're under contract to lose!" He looked around impatiently. "This game has a great ending, but you have to _lose_!"

Zetta unsheathed his sword from Nimbus. "If you get these bodies out of here, I'll let you live."

When they were gone, Zetta sat back down on the throne and jiggled Tez a bit on his shoulder. "See, thing about rules is, you have to follow them. You just need to be the one making the rules, got it?"

Tezzy proceeded to blow a spit bubble. "Bluh!"


	4. Chapter 4

4

The Colonel was waiting.

He sat, brooding, eyes staring into the twisting campfire flames uselessly. It wasn't that he couldn't see. He didn't want to see that fire. Not tonight. Tonight was the night he wanted to see his plans to come to fruition.

The Colonel shifted on the log he used as a seat that would be his pillow later on. If he stared over the fire, through the thick darkness of the night, he eventually could make out the sulfurous red haze that mantled his citadel. **His** citadel.

The Colonel set his teeth together, feeling sharpness against sharpness. He knew Zetta. He knew Zetta as few did. He had seen the Overlord at his weakest, and he had seen the abysmal depths of his cruelty.

The Colonel smiled. He would've liked to see Zetta's face tonight.

* * *

Zetta was getting ready to brush his teeth. He took his bright red toothbrush, loaded it with blood red Trollgate, and commenced brushing, lathering his fangs up to a pinky foam. He spat in the sink and called out, "What'd you say? I didn't hear."

"Eh, it's nothing. Tez just spat up again." Zetta heard the sound of Salome casting a helpful cleaning spell.

Zetta rinsed out his mouth, washed his face (Who wants to be a pimply Overlord? I mean, even at his age, it's good not to take chances) and shuffled into the bedroom. He hoisted Kitt and Kiboodl off the bed and climbed under the covers, the heated blood in the mattress sloshing gently. Salome was busy nursing Tez, eyes closed.

Zetta rubbed her arm and kept his tone casual. Badass Overlords are not unduly concerned. "Feeling okay?"

She sighed. "Fine." She turned when she realized he was still watching her. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he said quickly. He ran his hand back along her arm and shoulder, enjoying the softness of her skin.

"What's wrong?"

"Dammit, Salome. Nothing." He searched around for a reason he might feel so edgy. "Don't like seeing you so tired, that's all. You keeping your Mana up?"

"Of course." Tez finished, she shifted him onto her shoulder and rubbed his back. "Or-" She gave Zetta a sidelong look. "Do you just miss me?"

"Huh? What? You're right here."

She smiled. "Well, _I've_ missed being with you." She kissed Tez's ear. "I love Tezzy, but things haven't been the same. I miss my Netherworld. I miss being with you. Or I would, if I didn't seem to be spending every free moment sleeping." There was the lovely sound of Tezzy burping up. Salome removed the blanket, wiped Tezzy's mouth with the clean corners and incinerated the blanket. She settled him back against her knees, watching him blink sleepily. "The tattoos don't seem to be bothering him anymore."

"Mmm," Zetta said, halfway into a dream about toadstools that were surrounding him, yapping "Eighty-eighty-eilinger!"

Salome watched as both of their faces relaxed into sleep. She placed Tezzy down on her other side, fluffed his pillow and blanket a bit. Then she turned out the light and settled under the covers. She curled up next to Zetta, her eyes having long accustomed themselves to the constant light of his ghastly hair. After a moment, she slipped her arm around his shoulders and tucked her face against his, mind rapidly descending towards sleep. "I've missed you."

And then, the missile crashed through the window opposite their bed.

Zetta thrashed upright maybe one millionth of a second before Salome, and so was the first to see Kitt and Kiboodl barking insanely as they circled something large and blunt on the floor, surrounded in a spray of broken glass. Salome glanced wide-eyed once at that, then whirled towards Tez. He was quite awake, eyes round, little hands in front of his face, but not crying.

Zetta, meanwhile, was scanning the perimeters of his bedroom for any danger, poised halfway into a lunge. His gaze dropped to the thing that had crashed through the window.

It coughed.

Zetta and Salome tensed, eyes blazing. They'd heard a cough like that before. Not from that throat. Not the same voice. But the same accent.

A New Zealand accent.

Zetta made a fist. A wind soared through the room, catching up the glass shards and sending them hurtling out into the night. He stepped out of bed, striding over to the prone missile. Kitt and Kiboodl backed protectively towards Salome.

Zetta's voice was low and intense. "Who are you?"

"I am-" The missile gulped for air, bleeding from several open gashes. "The emissary for my people. I am... the harbinger of the Republic... I am the omen of your doom...Lord Zetta!"

And with that, the sentient ear of corn self-destructed.

* * *

Well. No sleep that night. At dawn, Zetta was standing at the front gates of his citadel, a cool gale pushing against his chest, his cape snapping behind him. He watched his minions troop into their requisite facilities, drills and gears rattling in readiness. He looked up when the Cook Brigade fell into formation, lugging massive cauldrons full of liquid butter and cannons loaded with salt blocks. If the corn were back, and if they wanted a battle, he was ready. "Quicker with those picnic tables! We're moving out in the hour!" He grinned, watching the minions scurry as he heard Salome step up behind him.

"This should be quick and easy."

"You should come."

Zetta saw her waver a bit, eyes brightening at the thought of bloodshed. It had been months since she'd had any real combat. But then she lowered her lids and shook her head. "No. Tez still has his cold. I can't leave him, not even for an afternoon." (It was Tezzy's First Cold.)

"Tch. Sure you could."

Salome bent her head to nuzzle the baby in her arms. "No. I'd be worrying the whole time and slowing you up. Besides-" She looked up. "Given your policies, there's bound to be another uprising soon enough."

Ever read that book the_ Iliad_? The one written by Homer, back when Homer was a blind poet that immortalized the heart, soul, legend and valor of the Hellenic age and not the man who first said "D'oh!" Well, the_ Iliad_ is full of battle scenes, most of them quite violent with spears being shoved through people's left nostrils and running out the back of their right ear, but there is one really good scene where Hector, the only decent man in all of the ancient world, is bidding his beloved wife, Andromache, farewell before he hies himself off to battle. And it's a touching and dynamic scene because Hector and Andromache have this lovely little princeling named Astyanax (whom Hector, for reasons that defy parental love, calls Scamandrios), and if Hector dies in battle, Andromache will be carried off by some hairy Greek and raped, and Astyanax will be tossed off the highest available palace wall (which is what eventually happens). But Hector doesn't think he's going to die, and as he's about to ride off, he wants to give Astyanax a kiss goodbye. And Astyanax screams in infant terror because Daddy's wearing one of those freakish Trojan helmets with one of those horsehair crests that looks like it's about to spring off Dad's head and dismember him. So Hector laughingly removes his helmet, raises his beloved son high and prays to the gods that Astyanax become a greater man and ruler than he, that virtue and fortune follow him all of his days, that he be blessed with-

"Well, I gotta get going," Zetta said.

"All right." Salome reached around his shoulders and kissed him.

"Remember to wipe the kid's nose. Demon snot has some weird properties." He smiled down at Tez and gave him a parting snarl. "RARRR!"

"Rwar!" said Tez, showing off his baby teeth. ("Awwwwwww," cooed the assembled demon horde.)

Zetta kissed Salome back. "I'll bring home corn muffins for dinner." Then he snapped around. "Move out, peons!"

* * *

Corn doesn't grow in jungles. It grows in fields, ideally corn fields. But when corn achieves self-awareness, the means to walk, run, cast Mana and the desire for self-government, it may just lead its enemies deep into the heart of the Ufo Jungle (pronounced "ufo". No, not u-f-o, "ooofo"). About mid-afternoon, Zetta called a halt in their march, sent out more patrols to scour the area and reconnoiter with the scouts, plunked his backside down on a convenient log and muttered, "Ufo."

Q, his platoon leader, a tall blonde professor with eyes like the Angel of Death, tromped over to him, anti-aircraft gun braced against her shoulder. Zetta gestured for her to report.

She frowned. "They're hard to track, Lord Zetta. We suspect they aren't going by foot at all. We think they're rolling along on their sides. Rem and Ilyxiveth report seeing a swath of jungle about a three hundred yards across rolled flat."

_Damn. That's a lot of corn._ Zetta gauged his options. _We'll need more butter._ "Proceed as directed." He watched her stalk off, winging lazy demons as she passed. Of all his commanders, Q was definitely the best. Determined, skilled and absolutely heartless, she'd been his loyal captain during the bad Wish Book days.

In one athletic movement, Zetta got to his feet, eyes scanning the luxuriant mesh of trees, oversized leaves, lianas dripping with blossoms and moisture. The light speared down from high overhead, casting everything in a green haze . They were walking through a tangle of knee-high plants, the youngest in the jungle, straining upwards towards the impossibly-distant sunlight.

"Lord Zetta," a voice whispered happily.

Zetta swung around. His eyes connected with a pair of pink ones, limpid and lined in black. Then Trixabella smiled and stepped off the log that he'd just been sitting on. Without it, she barely came up to the middle of his chest.

Zetta made a mental note not to back away from her in alarm. "What are_ you_ doing here?"

"I told you last time. I have no more use being with Alex. He's a creep. So it makes sense that I offer my services to you."

Zetta glanced uneasily over his shoulder at the demon horde. They'd clustered around the Trivial Pursuit board. "Why," Zetta asked, "do you have to put it_ that_ way?"

Trixabella lowered her lashes. "I'm sorry. I've...never been used for anything else."

"No sympathy ploys."

"Well." She took a deep, brave breath and looked up into his eyes. "I want to help you destroy Alex."

"We aren't destroying Alex today. We're shucking corn."

Her face brightened. "That sounds fun."

Zetta eyed her. Aside from their other...qualities, succubi were powerful fighters, no doubt about it. _No! What the hell are you thinking, Zetta? What about Salome?_

_Well, it's not like I'm going to sleep with her anything..._

_Tch. And you think that makes the slightest whiff of difference to Salome?_

Zetta shook his head. "No. Get the hell outta my Netherworld. You want me to toss you out on the end of my sword?"

"Lord Zetta..." she whispered, eyes full of miserable tears, lower lip trembling. Zetta paused in the act of unsheathing his sword, entranced by that quivering lower lip. Men always are.

Q arrived with the good news that the first line of Corn Warriors had been sighted just in time to see her Overlord tumbling heels over head behind a log with a succubus on top of him. There was a crash of leaves, and the log hid everything from view. Q waited a moment, listening to the underbrush thrash around. She tapped the scuffed toe of her combat boot, checked her watch, then swore and stalked off, shooting the thumb off a nearby cook.

"Gah!" Zetta finally succeeded in squirming out from under Trixabella and back to his feet. "What the hell -what the damn hell do you think you're doing?"

Trixabella was dabbing at her smeared lipstick. "Wasn't it obvious?" She handed him a moist towelette. "You have some lipstick on your nose. And your chin. And your neck."

Zetta scrubbed at himself, then threw the towelette to the ground. He whipped his sword out, pressing its tip into the tender flesh of Trixabella's throat. "Listen up," he seethed, hair popping and hissing slightly. "I'm about to carve out your windpipe and toss it into the next life, where you can go find it. But before you go, let me just say that this body is the _exclusive property_ of the most badass freaking Overlord in the universe, and he's not about to let a _pug-nosed_-"

"ATTAAAAAAACK!" the scream emanated from where the front lines of his defenses should be. Zetta looked up.

A hail of hard, sharp unpopped popcorn kernels was raining down on them.

Zetta looked down again to dispatch Trixabella before he led his troops into battle. However, she was gone.

The idea of a nymphomaniac succubus on the loose, stalking him through the jungle, pleased Zetta much less than you might otherwise think. After all, wasn't he past all that? Hadn't he traded those lewd passions for a truer, better love? Zetta knew which he really wanted, even if the lewd passion was cavorting around him in tight leather miniskirt while the truer better love was at home wiping snot off the baby. Right? Right? Zetta scanned the foliage. Dammit, she was wearing a bright red halter top and had purple hair. There was no way she could vanish like that.

"Lord Zetta!" Q shouted. "Your orders?"

Zetta turned around to see a solid yellow line of Corn Guerillas bearing down on his camp. "What the hell do you _think_ my orders are? Pop these bastards!"


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Observation: While writing Wishes last year, I remember thinking that I never could've written it from Zetta's point of view. I didn't like him enough, and I frankly didn't always understand him either. But writing for Zetta has actually proven to be much more fun than I initially thought it would be. Not only do I like him more, but normally I write about very repressed, melancholy, angsty characters, so writing for an Overlord with almost unlimited power, fairly average IQ, heaps of attitude and almost no moral compass is actually very liberating. I'd recommend it to anyone._

5

Zetta took one final bite of his sixteenth corn muffin and tossed the rest into the fire. Night had fallen in the jungle; every area not within ten feet of a campfire was lost in darkness. It was a fine night for an ambush. However, Zetta's forces still hadn't located the corn's headquarters, and Zetta doubted that any guerillas would be visiting him tonight. No, they'd need at least the night to harvest and train the new crop.

He heard Q step to his side. "Lord, we've roughed the prisoners up."

"_Splen_did." Though he was full, he grabbed several corn muffins and proceeded to the prisoners' tent. The Valkyrie guards parted to let him through, and he stepped into the lulling glow of a tent lit by several jack-o-lanterns. His three corn hostages were bound hands and feet to sturdy chairs, two swordmasters positioned at each. Zetta gave the tent a once over, then snapped his fingers. All the jack-o-lanterns went dim, their cheery glow replaced by the sullen red haze of dying embers.

"Hungry?" Zetta asked.

The hostages glared at him. One spoke up, "We aren't hungry for the bloody food of_ your _tyranny!"

"Oh, these didn't come from me." And with a happy smile, he shoved the corn muffins into the corns' mouths.

"ACK!"

"BL'GAH!"

"BWL'HACK-ACK-ACK!"

"You fiend!" the first corn hissed.

"Is that how you'll feed your nation?" the second corn demanded. "Upon the flesh of our people?"

"Of _course_ he will," the third answered for Zetta. "That's why we're_ fighting_ the bloody tyrant!"

"Curse you, ZETTA!" Primus screamed.

"A BOX on your hegemony!" Secundus screamed.

"He meant, a 'pox'," Tertius clarified.

Zetta crossed his arms. "Well, I'm glad you're all so talkative. Just what are you trying to do?"

"We are conducting a justified war," Primus explained.

"Not only justified," Secundus added, "but morally unavoidable!"

"It fulfills all the terms of a justified war," Tertius concluded.

"Tch! How could rising up against your lawful Overlord be justifiable?"

Primus bared his sharp little teeth in a smile. "Oh very, _very_ easily! First of all, it must be a legitimately immoral government."

Zetta laughed. "Thanks."

"Secondly," Secundus said, "all other recourses must have been exhausted. Well, we _tried_ to reason with you, back when you were a dictionary-"

"Yeah, but you haven't tried surrendering," Zetta observed. "There's still that."

"Thirdly," Tertius went on, "there must be a realistic chance of success."

"Got you there, corn faces."

"And _finally_," Primus thundered, "There must be a replacement government erected to address the reforms! HAIL TO THE REPUBLIC!"

"HAIL TO THE REPUBLIC!"

"Whoo, go Republic!"

Zetta watched them gaze towards the top of the tent (and the sky beyond) with zealous reverence. He shook his head and turned around. "Okay, I've heard enough. Kill them."

Zetta stalked across the camp. "Q! Keep the patrol going through the night! We aren't going to be caught unaware by a bunch of produce!" He got to his own luxurious tent (hardwood flooring; indoor plumbing; cable) and jerked the tent flap open. Automatically, the lights went on. He stalked through the front hall, past the living room and the bathroom into his bedroom. Not as nice as the one at home. Not a blood bed, but still, quite, quite sufficient.

Zetta had just shrugged off his long cape when he caught a movement from the corner of his eye. He whirled, facing the bathroom.

It looked empty, no water was running, but the batwing shower curtain had been drawn closed.

Zetta tensed. _Trixabella?_

He unsheathed Zetta's Sword and made for the bathroom. At the last moment, he decided to jerk the curtain aside to see Trixabella's expression when he stabbed her.

His swordblow was met with a ringing parry, amplified by the bathroom's great acoustics. Zetta's eyes widened with amazement, then he lowered his sword, smiling. "What the hell? What're you doing here?"

"There was nowhere to hide in the bedroom," Salome replied calmly, resheathing her own blade, the Immortal Edge.

"Why did you need to hide?" Zetta asked, giving her his hand as she stepped, dry and fully clothed (well, inasmuch as Salome is ever fully clothed) out of the bathtub.

"I wanted to surprise you. And then I thought, given how you react when surprised, I'd better bring a weapon."

"I guess I should just be glad you know how to dodge." Zetta shook himself as he followed her out of the bathroom. "Where's Tezza?"

"Right there. I'm surprised you didn't notice him." Zetta glanced over at what he'd taken to be a heap of clothes on top of his suitcase. It was their kid, bundled in about six layers. "I didn't want his cold to get worse." (Kitt and Kiboodl trotted in from the living room, yapping cheerily.)

Zetta got around to kissing his wife hello. "So why're you here?" A vague fear danced in the back of his mind. Trixabella...Did she somehow know?

Salome wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. "I learned that your conquest was taking longer than the afternoon, and I'm needy."

"That's a good enough reason." Zetta kissed her back. "Who'd you leave in charge of the capital?"

"Asperis." Not a bad choice, Zetta decided, as she kissed him back. Asperis was Salome's equivalent to Q in her own army, as well as being an excellent nanny. Salome smiled. "The citadel's always so empty without you. Are you glad I came?"

Zetta kissed her shoulder. "Not remotely. I'll call for some champagne."

She shook her head. "Nursing."

"Oh. Ah...fine, I'll call for some sparkling apple juice. Oh, hey, do you want some muffins? We've made about forty batches."

"How much longer do you think it will be?" Salome asked once the apple juice and the muffins had arrived and she and Zetta had curled up on the futon.

Zetta put on a scoff-face. "Please, they're nothing. The worse thing is the numbers, but hey, at least the army will get fed."

"What about the corn Mana users?"

"Most of the corn I've seen have been loaded with pikes and machine guns. No real spellwork yet. They've augmented their numbers with some carrot infantry and heavy-artillery pumpkins, like last time. About the only new thing is their Leek Division, and that hasn't given us much trouble."

Salome took a drink. "Well, at least this rebellion won't leave the nation starved and penniless."

"Hyaa HA! It'll leave the nation covered in corn husks and pumpkin pulp...mashed carrots everywhere..." He sighed with gusto. "It'll be beautiful. Like a dinner table after Thankstaking."

Salome snuggled against Zetta's shoulder with a contented sigh. Zetta was gleefully contemplating the vegetable carnage while Salome nuzzled his throat, when he heard her sniff suddenly. She sniffed again. Zetta momentarily left off his visions of squealing corncobs, bent double and sobbing for mercy. "What? You like the way I smell?"

"What sort of soap did you use this morning? You smell like apricot."

Zetta cleared his throat and tried to keep his body temperature down as he recalled a certain purple-haired succubus. "Don't you have some apricot soap? I must've accidentally used it this morning. Had my mind on other things."

Salome sat up a bit out of his embrace to look at him. "I don't think I do. I've never really liked apricot."

Maybe for one-millionth of a second, Zetta considered telling her about Trixabella. And then he decided not to. It was _not_, he told himself firmly, several times, that he had anything to hide or be ashamed of. After all, Trixabella had been the aggressor in each and every encounter. But with Salome in his arms and the smell of freshly-baked carrot cake wafting in through the window, the absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was go into long stories, especially _that_ one.

So he shrugged.

Salome frowned and sniffed his cheek (which was definitely a new experience for Zetta). "Maybe it's just my imagination." Tezzy, in his bindings, began coughing then, a series of adorable baby coughs which effectively masked the sound of a fatal mistake having been made.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Happy Spring Break to anyone who's celebrating Spring Break this week, as opposed to later in the season, and as opposed to anyone who might be in a different hemisphere. Happy Random Week to you nice people! I've noticed that in the last two weeks or so, my Makai fics have both received whopping amounts of hits, so I'd like to say Thank You So Much to all of my readers, especially Taiga and Blue Paladin. Don't hold back from leaving comments/insights/reviews; input makes all the difference to us writers._

6

Zetta ordered an early start the next morning. By noon, he'd arranged his units into search parties. By three o'clock, the corn headquarters had been located. By three-thirty, Zetta was ready to head out and raise agricultural havoc.

By seven-thirty, he was stalking back into camp, setting random tents on fire. Salome came out to meet him, trying to think up a few calming words. However, when she learned that the headquarters had been just a decoy and that the real base of operations was even further inside the jungle, she was just as peeved at having to spend another night in the Ufo.

"You could take off for the citadel," Zetta suggested later that night, moodily watching his bowl of corn, carrot, pumpkin and leak chowder. He seemed to be waiting for it to attack him.

Salome shook her head. "No. I came here to be with you."

Zetta poked at one of the carrots, looking for any teeth. "How's Tez doing?"

"Still coughing and sneezing. Zetta, when he coughs, little sparks come out, and I smell brimstone. Is that normal?"

"Sure," he replied absently. "Used to happen to me all the time when I was a kid."

Salome got up from his side by the fire. "Well, I should probably go give Tezzy his evening feeding. I'll see you later, love."

"Mm," Zetta said vaguely, picking up a leak and hurling it into the fire. Maybe he heard screams of anguish.

In a few minutes, he heard Q step to his side. "Report," he commanded, picking a lump of pumpkin apart with his fingernails. The thing might've swallowed a cyanide capsule. Honestly, you never knew when it came to organically grown vegetables.

"Yes, Lord. Mustafa's unit has succeeded in driving the corn out of the decoy headquarters and further into the jungle. He's assigned scouts to track their progress. Hopefully, we should have their real headquarters' location before dawn."

Zetta looked up. He bared his teeth. "What the hell?"

Trixabella, not Q, held her hands out defensively in front of herself. "Lord Zetta, I've learned how to make a military report!"

"Where's Q?" Zetta demanded, rising to his feet. _More importantly, where's Salome? Oh yeah, the tent._

"She's busy executing some prisoners. I thought I'd-" She smiled bashfully. "Save us all some trouble."

"Trouble? Save trouble? Oh _no_, sweetheart, you're about to get a lot of trouble! I told you to get out!"

"Zetta, no! I want to be with_ you_!" Her voice swelled with pleading. "Don't send me away again."

"Well, I never want to see you again, so... get moving." Hadn't he had some method to get rid of her before? Something involving the Zetta Sword?

Quivering lower lip. Tiny, tiny miniskirt. Brain suddenly very hard to find.

Yes. Yes, it had _definitely_ involved the Zetta Sword. As Zetta was reaching around for the blade, Trixabella hopped forward and clung to his swordarm, pressing herself against him, her quivering lips angled up toward his (which were quivering a bit too), a cloud of apricot fragrance surrounding them both. "Please," she whispered. "I'll be useful. I'll fight for you. I'll do anything. Just -let me stay. No one needs to know."

Then Trixabella exploded off the ground in front of Zetta. Jerking away from his arm, she soared high above his head, enveloped by about six vises of Mana. She went spinning through the air, eyes wide, screaming, before there was a burst of brilliant white light, and she went soaring away through the trees. In a second, darkness had swallowed her.

Zetta pivoted, eyes searching through the shadows and firelight, seeking the source of that powerful Mana volley. He should've known, he realized after a moment, picking out a pair of gleaming red eyes in the darkness and the glow of porcelain skin. "Salome!" He laughed shortly. "Gog, thanks, I was wondering how to get rid of her."

Salome gave him a level look. She raised her right fist, surrounded by writhing wisps of Mana. Then she cut the spell and spoke. "The most powerful Overlord in the cosmos?"

The coolness in her voice froze not only Zetta's blood but his heart and most of his internal organs. "Salome-"

She half turned away from him, facing away into the darkness. "_What_?"

"That -looked much worse than it actually was."

"Oh really? Then why didn't you just shove her away? Or-" Zetta heard her teeth click together, it was so quiet. "Why was she even here at all?"

"I didn't _want_ her to be here!"

"The mightiest Overlord in the cosmos, and you couldn't get rid of her?" Salome turned abruptly to face him, very still and cold. Except for her eyes, which seemed brighter and hotter than the flames. "Zetta, I knew you weren't true to me when I left you the first time. But I thought that _now_-" She cut her words off, voice shaking.

"I _have_ changed, Salome! Didn't you see me shoving her away?"

Salome shook her head. "Not once."

"Well, then you arrived too late in the show! I swear, I made it very clear I didn't want her there!"

Salome set her black lips, staring hard at Zetta. With an appalling jolt, Zetta realized her eyes were filled with tears.

But when she spoke, she sounded like the powerful Overlord she was, cold and wanting only the truth. "Then why were you even speaking to her at all?"

"Salome, I swear, I wasn't going to betray you!"

Her face didn't change, but one tear slipped from her left eye and slid down her cheek.

"Don't you believe me?"

She bowed her head. "No."

Zetta's eyes widened. "Why not?" he demanded.

"Because you lied to me last night!" She looked up. "So what's to stop you from lying to me this night?"

Zetta stared at her hopelessly, almost hating her at that moment. Did she have such little faith in him? Did she think he couldn't change? Did she think he was waiting to hop into bed with the next pretty body he could find? He was vaguely aware that some of his anger was directed inward, but he had no luxury to dwell on that. "So is this _it_?" he demanded. "Are you never going to trust me again?"

Salome's composure broke. She sobbed once and brought her hands to her face. "Zetta-"

Zetta really hated himself then. He crossed over, embracing her. She jerked away from him so suddenly that he nearly dislocated his shoulder.

Salome was shaking her head firmly. "_Don't_."

"What?"

She bared her teeth a moment, eyes glittering angrily. "I don't want to be in your arms after you've just been holding that bitch!" In an instant, she'd darted away back towards their tent, the darkness following her faster than he ever could.

Zetta whirled around, looking for something to stab. He settled for the nearest trees and some passing prinnies. It didn't do much good. For that moment at least, with his fangs bared and his heart pounding, he really wanted Trixabella to pop up.

But in the end, Q's scouts appeared with the location of the corn's real headquarters. Turning his sword hilt over in his hand, Zetta shouted out the command that they would be attacking tonight.

* * *

Salome awoke the next morning to the sound of rain hitting the trees high above her head. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times while trying to remember where she was. Then she remembered and shut her eyes hard under the stifling weight of misery.

_Where is Zetta?_ she wondered. He'd probably commandeered someone else's tent and spent the night there...No, wait, hadn't she heard him give the order to march? That's right, he'd gone to assault the corn's stronghold. Apparently, the night hadn't been sufficient for him to take it and return.

Salome sighed sadly, wondering how she was going to face him next, wondering which strong emotion would take the front. She grimaced, glad that, at least for now, he was gone.

Salome opened her eyes, sat up and looked over at Tez. He was already awake, staring in apparent fascination at Kitt and Kiboodl (who, whenever Zetta was gone, always took the opportunity to sleep in bed with Salome). Salome employed her considerable reserve of maternal hormones to make herself feel better. She picked Tezzy up, cuddled him, counted his toes, told him nursery rhymes about sweet, helpful children like Hansel and Gretel, fed him, changed his diaper, kissed his little nose, tickled his tummy, listened to him gurgle, watched him wave his wee little hands and giggle, then set him gently back down on the bed, rolled over and buried her miserable face in her pillow.

_What am I going to do? I can't leave Zetta, not like last time. If I've lost him -If I've lost him again, I don't know what to do. But I can't leave...Why did this happen? Didn't he bring me back to life, at the risk of his own? Doesn't he love me?_

Salome punched her pillow, emitting a soft shriek of frustration. _Why did he lie?_

"I need a walk," Salome told Acantha, the healer demon who'd come with her to nanny Tez. "And-" She glanced down at the pets that were joyously circling her ankles. "I guess I'm taking the dogs out too. Just watch Tez and make sure any snot doesn't drip on anything. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Salome strode outside the tent into the nearly empty camp, Kitt and Kiboodl rocketing past her and into the underbrush. It was still raining. At least, she could still hear it. Salome tilted her head back to see the solid canopy of leaves and vines. Only the occasional flume of rain broke through, surging down like a waterfall on some unfortunate demon's head. There weren't many vassals around, just a guard platoon, some of the merchants and lots of cooks. Not feeling ready to eat, Salome turned her steps into the jungle, in the opposite direction of the corn's headquarters. She and the dogs weren't stopped, of course. Please, she was Lady Salome, maybe the second most badass freaking Overlord in the universe.

Salome breathed deeply, trying to let the greenery and the clean, rainy air make her peaceful. A lot of good it did. About two minutes into her walk, she stopped short, thinking about Zetta. A few seconds of that sent her kneeling in the underbrush, face in her hands. She would never leave him. But how would she be able to live with him, knowing he didn't truly love her?

She was quite unprepared when the Mana-nulling cage dropped over her.

Salome leapt to her feet just as a Mana-nulling floor shot out under her, trapping her entirely. She glared fiercely through the mesh of humming black iron. "Who's there?" she demanded, her Mana stabbing her painfully as she tried to cast it. After a moment, she pulled out the Immortal Edge.

It was too late.

* * *

Kitt and Kiboodl were circling the cage, yapping irately. Who's there? Who's there, who's there, who's there? Who dares hurt Mommy while Sqiqq and Kiboodl are here? Kitt and Kiboodl will kill whoever it is! We will! We will, we will, we will!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Kitt and Kiboodl were blasted away from the cage in opposite directions by a thunderous explosion of Mana. As soon as their brains ceased somersaulting, they were hurtling back towards their imprisoned Mommy. With a surge of fury, they saw it was the Bad Person who had captured her. Kitt and Kiboodl bared their little teeth, gathered themselves and lunged just as the Bad Person, Mommy and the cage were transported away.

Kitt and Kiboodl landed in front of each other.

Where Mommy, Kiboodl?

_You_ had her, Kitt!

Mommy's gone!

NO!

Kiboodl threw back his head and howled mournfully.

We need to get Mommy help!

Back to nearby demon place?

Yes!

Yapyapyapyapayapyap.

* * *

Acantha had stepped outside for a bit of a breather and a chance to flirt with Hai, the head cook. They'd laughed, sipped a bit of corn whiskey, and then she'd headed back to Zetta's tent, which was secluded from the main camp in its own copse. The blonde healer had just sighted it and was so busy concentrating on mincing her way along in her tight dress without tripping that she was never really aware of the sledgehammer that connected with the side of her head.

* * *

Okay, okay, Kitt, where's help for Mommy?

Uh -that's the cook!

Mmmm, food smells good!

Oooo, it does!

Maybe cook will give us some?

We're so cute. He couldn't say no. Hi, cook!

Hiya, cook!

Hiya!

Hiya!

Hiya!

Yapyapyapyapayapyap.

OW! Cook kicked us!

Well, don't worry, Kiboodl. We'll piddle on his shoes later.

Mm, okay. I wonder if there are any squirrels to chase.

...uh...

What's wrong, Kitt?

I -I can't help thinking that there's -there's something- something we need to do.

Maybe we should go ask Mommy.

MOMMY!

Kitt! We forgot about Mommy!

Quick! To the den thingy!

Yapyapyapyapayapyap.

Hey, Kitt, who's this?

Sniffsniffsniffsniffsniff.

It's the demon that's helping Mommy with the Puppy.

Maybe we should tell her!

Good idea, Kiboodl.

Yapyapyapyapayapyap.

Kiboodl! We can't wake her up!

Let's piddle on her.

Well, okay, maybe that'll work -wait! If she's asleep, and if the Bad Person took Mommy, and Master's off somewhere -who's protecting the Puppy?

Kitt! We have to protect Mommy and Master's Puppy!

That's what we'll do! The den thingy's right there!

Yapyapyapyapayapyap.

* * *

Tez really wanted to roll over. He was sick of lying in the big bed on his back. The muscles were there. They had to be. Big Special Person could roll over. Big Loud Shouty could roll over. He, Tez,the center of the universe, should be able to roll over. He waved his arms, trying to build momentum. He watched his arms flail for several seconds, then lost interest and proceeded to blow spit bubbles.

_Where_ is_ everyone? Where's Big Special? I'm hungry. I'll scream, that always brings someone, Big Special or Loud Shouty or Big Helper or that Other Big Helper. One of them should show up. One of them had _better_ show up!_

Oh, good. There was someone now.

* * *

Don't worry, Puppy, Kitt and Kiboodl are coming! We're in the den thingy! Oh- no -it's slippery ground-wood stuff-

Slip-scratch-tumble-slide.

Don't worry, Puppy, Kitt and Kiboodl are still coming!

Hey- Kiboodl -You smell that?

Sniff. Yeah. Who _is_ that?

Smells kinda familiar...

A stranger's been near the Puppy!

We'll kill whoever it is! We'll rip it open with our teeth. We'll toss it like a beanbag!

Good idea, Kitt, good idea, but...

Huh?

Sniffsniffsniffsniff.

This is Master and Mommy's lair, but where's Puppy?

Kiboodl! We've lost Puppy!

Ooooo, we're bad, Kitt! We're bad pets!

No, Kiboodl! Don't despair! We're not bad pets!

But-

We'll find Master! He'll know what to do!

Where _is_ Master?

Sniffsniff. Phew! He smells like he's everywhere! But wait a minute -I think I got his trail!

Yapyapyapyapayapyap.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: My thanks definitely go out to Botan-Rocks721 and Blue Paladin. Just a few more chapters to go._

7

Zetta's eyes narrowed as he took in the wreck of the battlefield, the scattered demon soldiers, the splattered blood... the pumpkin pulp crushed underfoot, the rustling corn husks ripped off the screaming corn. It was just his sort of thing, and he couldn't enjoy it.

The shifting of shadows through the dim green jungle told him the sun was rising, probably halfway up the sky. Midmorning. He'd expected to be long back at the citadel by today. But here he was, standing on the remains of an ancient jungle road while his soldiers scouted and kept a weather eye out for guerillas rich in Vitamin C.

Zetta leaned his shoulder against a convenient pillar, finally gave in and commenced brooding over Salome. How was he going to pull through this? He'd apologized already, dammit. Apologized _unnecessarily_. He hadn't done anything wrong. Did she expecthim to grovel?

Dammit. Maybe some flowers-

No! Zetta stood up straight. This was a matter of principle! No matter how much she cried, he hadn't done anything wrong! It was _she_ that needed to apologize!

Salome crying...Damn.

Zetta strode towards Q. "Any news?" Zetta knew very well that Q would've told him of any breakthroughs. However, when he was peeved, the Netherworld was peeved.

Q sighed. "_No_, Lord Zetta."

As he was stepping away, Zetta overheard the soldier Sgt. Bob and thief Oliver conferring in low voices. "Man," Bob was saying. "I miss the days when he was a book. Just think of all the things we could've written in him that we didn't. "

"Heh, I miss carrying him in battle." Oliver grinned reminiscently. "Remember how I'd lug him around, and then I'd whack people over the head with him? Aw, good times, good times."

There was a bright orange explosion under Bob and Oliver's feet, and Zetta strode on. He had just come back to his pillar when he caught the glare of a white flag being waved amidst the foliage.

Zetta raised his eyebrows. "What's this? Is the flora surrendering?"

"We're the welcoming committee!" a New Zealand-accented voice hooted through the jungle. "We extend our warmest hospitality to Lord Zetta!" With that, about six of Zetta's fighters were tossed across the clearing, sans their heads.

Zetta watched them come to tumbling landings. "Cute," he said, "but not original. How about I just answer that I intend to wear out my welcome _and _the welcoming committee!"

Then the two forces rushed at each other, and the blood and kernels were flying.

When the battle was basically over, while Zetta and the guerilla commander were exchanging the requisite final taunts, the corn captain raised himself to his full height, dripping blood.

"Well, say whatever you're going to say," Zetta prompted. "You aren't going to last much longer."

"I want...to say...only this." The corn drew a rattling breath. "That... you will rue the day you ever...raised blades...against us... For... while you hold our... freedom in...your grip...we hold something... just as precious to you... in our grasp...and you...have not...inclined us...to be...merciful..."

Zetta stabbed him through the stomach in one quick, forceful movement. He smiled. "Aw, shucks."

Zetta's army was tromping across the battlefield and towards the heart of the jungle within five minutes. The soldiers glanced curiously at each other and at Lord Zetta. Zetta tried to ignore the stares. Everyone was wondering what the corn might have.

* * *

"Look -look at the beady eyes."

"That is the face of a merciless slaughterer."

"We should kill him now, before he gets too big."

"Aw but...but he's just so cute."

"Yeah. He's supposed to be cute. It's a defense mechanism. Makes him think, 'I'm so cute that no one will try to kill me even though I've got the festering black heart of a despot'."

Just then Tez started to scream. He was _still_ hungry and these Big Yellow Things were _not_ feeding him.

Primus, Secundus and Tertius, the corn prisoners who had narrowly escaped execution and had thus been able to pilfer the hated enemy's firstborn, stared uneasily at each other.

"It's screaming again," said Primus.

"I don't care if it needs a new diaper," Secundus stated. "I'm scared to change its diaper. Who knows what demon poo could do to you?"

"I think he needs to be fed," Tertius thought out loud.

The corn stared at each other.

"Well, _we_ can't do that!" Primus burst out. "We're not even female!"

"We're not even mammalian!" Secundus agreed.

Tertius frowned. "Well, I don't think he's going to stop crying."

"Let him cry," Primus suggested.

"Won't he starve to death?" Secundus wondered.

"He's too cute. We can't let that happen."

"Dammit! We can't feel sorry for him just because he's cute!"

"Can't we?" a grim new voice broke in. There was a limping shuffle, and then the Colonel had stepped into their tent. "Do you think there's any trick that these demons can't stoop to? Remember his father; he made us think that he was just a_ book_. Put us all off guard. And then, once he'd had the opportunity to disparage us, he had us decimated. Worse than decimated. The opposite rather, only one corn in ten left standing." The Colonel limped over to the wicker basket Tez had been placed in. He tapped it with his toe. "This one...Give him time, and he'll be no different."

"Lord Zetta is heartless," Secundus sniffled, still rattled by the muffin episode.

"Do you think," Tertius wondered, "such a heartless demon will even be moved to save his son?"

The Colonel grinned, displaying a wide, jagged-tooth smile. "The man has his pride. Oh yeah, a festering black soul of pride."

* * *

Salome reached out to touch the iron mesh of her cage. Pain shot through her fingertips, up her arm and into her head. She hissed and dropped her hand. She rose to her feet and paced the length of her cage restlessly.

"This is going well," her captor gloated.

Salome refused to answer him.

"It's only a matter of time."

Salome pressed her lips together hard. Then she gasped, doubled over suddenly with excruciating pain. Salome clenched her teeth. It wasn't being cut off from her Mana that was hurting her, it was-

"I have to say, I'm feeling good about this. I've had a score to settle with you for a long time. As for Zetta...As soon as he shows up, the foundation of the cosmos shall truly be shaken off its axis."

"Damn," Salome half-groaned, half-whispered through another surge of pain.

"Hahahahaaaa! Glad you're taking it so well, Lady Salome! You are powerless in this! I control the fate of-"

"Do you have a breast pump!" Salome shouted.

Alexander stopped in the middle of his exultation. He gave Salome a wary look through the mesh. "A...what?"

"Breast pump."

"Um..." Alex's eyes hovered uncertainly over her.

"Dammit, I'm lactating, Alex! It's painful! Didn't you think of _that _when you captured me?"

Alex's face squinched up. "Ew..."

"Ew?" Salome repeated. She stood up straight and crossed her arms. "Ew is what I'll say when I cut you open from stem to stern and sort your wriggling innards."

"Please," Alex scoffed. "I'm gonna kill your precious Zetta, and then I don't care what happens to you. You're just bait."

Salome glared at him. Then she shuddered through another wave of pain. "Do you _have_ a breast pump?"

Alex squirmed. "Aw damn, I don't believe this."

Salome stalked away from him to the far end of the hall, her mind racing. What had happened to Tez? Hadn't Alex the brains to bring her baby along-? But no, hopefully wherever he was, he was safe.

Salome tried to take a deep breath, remembering that playful little succubus. Would Zetta even come?

* * *

Huff! Puff! !

Kitt! I need to slow down!

But Kitt, shooting along through the tops of the trees to get the first possible view of Master, was resisting the impulse to be drawn into the Eighth Demension.

Kiboodl! If I can stay in 3D, you can hurry up!

But Kitt, Kiboodl called from the undergrowth, no one's sure if I even have legs!

We have to get to Master! Mommy and Puppy are in danger!

Kiboodl gritted his little teeth and redoubled his efforts as they hurtled through the enormous jungle.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's note: Okay, let's have a show of hands: who thought I'd died? I am extremely sorry for the lengthy wait, but circumstances just didn't allow me to update until now. I'll make up for it by updating the last chapter (after this one) very soon. Thanks again to all you readers._

8

Zetta drew his sword, shifting his stance a bit. The added weight of the long, curved Zetta Sword put a slight tension all throughout his body. The muscles in his arm and chest, his shoulders and his back, his calves and thighs settled against the familiar tug through his right arm. The stance relaxed Zetta slightly, at the same time sending the adrenaline percolating pleasantly through his system. When it came down to it, Zetta preferred being slightly off balance.

The corn's stronghold finally stood in front of him. Their camp had been found deserted, nothing but a field of half-falling tents and dead campfires. But beyond the camp, from the nigh-on flattened ruins of an ancient jungle temple, the corn had built a complex series of trenches. Beyond the crumbling pillars, the jagged stone avalanche of the collapsed roof, and the broken floor tiling, a fortified produce market had been erected upon the altar stone. Carrots and leaks were stationed in the trenches, bristling with machine and gatling guns. Pumpkins in tiny tanks guarded the way to the market. Corn mage warriors surrounded the market. Zetta could only guess how many warriors might be hiding within that market's dark bowels.

"All of you ready to _die_?" he asked. The veggies, unlike the cheerful ones on Sesame Street (or rather, the demon equivalent, Poppyseed Den), remained silent. "This is what rabbit food gets when it tries to thwart _Lord Zetta_, the most badass freaking Overlord in the universe! Your little 'just war' is _over_!"

"We'll see," a grim voice replied from the market.

Zetta's felt a slight twitch along his left cheekbone. That voice...it was too familiar. He snarled. "Show yourself, corn!"

A lone figure stepped out of the market, drawing all eyes to him. Tall, solidly built, scarred and missing a third of his kernels, it was the Colonel. Slowly, he bared his sharp teeth in a challenging grin.

"Are you-?" Zetta frowned, rattled by the memories that smile stirred. "Are you that _damn_ corn?"

"That was me," the Colonel answered. "I was the first corn to gaze upon your loathsome front cover, Lord Zetta."

Zetta cast his mind back. Back to the days when he'd been a book. Back to the last day he'd been a book. Yeah, that day when Babylon had started yodeling about The One coming...everyone freaking out over whether they'd be cursed... Then Zetta'd gone to work on his new Netherworld, and what had he met but-

**Corn.**

Yep, that was him, the original corn. And indeed, the corn had said things weren't over between them.

"It is the culmination of all my hopes and dreams," the Colonel pronounced, "to see your defeat."

"Hate to disappoint you. No wait, I don't."

The Colonel smiled more broadly, a smile almost as manic as Zetta's. "I think differently." He pivoted slightly and pointed behind him. "Do you see that produce market?"

"Been blind for ages."

"Do you know what's in it?"

Zetta smiled impatiently. "I'm gonna take a shot in the dark... Produce?"

"Yes, produce. Yes, that's there. And -" He snapped his fingers. "YOUR DEMON HEIR, BWA HAHAHAHAHA!"

A wall of sheer astonishment slammed into Zetta as two corn climbed to the roof of the market and raised his infant son high above their heads.

* * *

Tezza was _still_ hungry, darnit. He squirmed as effectually as a four-month-old demon prince can, and it didn't accomplish much as Primus and Secundus hoisted him under the armpits and jerked him high into the air.

Tez was dizzy, both from hunger, but also from lack of sleep (didn't these Big Yellow Things realize he needed at least eighteen hours of sleep?). Plus, they hadn't walked him any, they hadn't changed his diaper, and Tez felt like he was going to puke as he watched his little feet jerk about fifteen feet above the shattered stone floor below.

His head snapped up when he heard a yell. Loud Shouty? Tezza's eyes scanned the area. Loud Shouty! Loud Shouty was here! Loud Shouty would know where the heck Big Special was! At the very least, Loud Shouty would hug and jiggle Tez, and that would be a welcome change from these stupid Yellow Things.

* * *

"What the-?" was what Zetta had shouted. He stared, nearly frozen, as twenty-five yards away from the top of a produce market, Tez looked up and held out his little hands to his father.

"Not so cocky now, _are_ you?" the Colonel exulted. "You're probably wondering what we're going to _do_ to your little baby. Maybe we should make him into a batch of muffins!"

"You bastard," Zetta seethed. "Your mother was a pinecone! You do realize this is just going to make your suffering all the bloodier?"

"Of course," the Colonel replied easily. He looked over at Tezzy. "He can bleed first."

Zetta set his teeth and tried to think of a way out of this.

"How's this?" the Colonel said. "Since I know you're too much of a despot to back down, even with your flesh and blood on the line, we'll just drop binky baby back into the produce market." Obligingly, Primus and Secundus hauled Tezzy back inside (Tezzy, much annoyed, began to wail in rage; he'd never sounded more like Zetta himself). "I'm sure you can guess that you'll have to destroy the market to defeat my army. Or you can withdraw and let your son live. How about it?"

_How the hell did this happen? Did Salome just hand our baby over to the corn? Impossible! So where-?_

"Aw," the Colonel said, leaning towards the market. "I believe I can hear him crying."

Zetta swung his sword against a nearby pillar, cutting it neatly in two and spraying the front trenches with sparks. Despite the drama, it didn't give him any ideas.

"Shall I take your silence for agreement, Lord Zetta?"

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhahahahaha!"

Everyone jumped as a thick column of lightning stabbed down twenty feet away from Zetta, revealing Alex, arms over chest, head thrown back and cackling. "Good to _see _you, Zetta! I see you're-" Alex looked around. "Eh, I see you're already busy. Dammit, call this off, Zetta!_ I'm_ your first priority!"

"Like hell you are!"

Alex gave the Colonel a narrow look. "Come on, you've only been feuding with these guys for a few years. Our conflict goes back centuries."

"Couldn't care less."

Alex raised his eyebrows. "Oh really? You don't care at all why I'm here?"

"Right."

"Well, how about when I tell you I'VE GOT YOUR WIFE LOCKED UP IN MY DUNGEON, HAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Zetta's face went blank for just a moment. Then his snarl was back. "_What_?"

"So yeah! You gotta fight _me _now!"

Zetta glanced back and forth from the Colonel to Alex to the Colonel to Alex.

"Crap."

Alex grimaced impatiently. "What's your problem, Zetta? I said I have your _wife_ locked in my _dungeon_. What, don't tell me you don't _care_!"

"Egh-" was all the preoccupied Zetta could manage.

"Hwa ha ha ha!" the Colonel exulted, hands on hips...hip area. "Ho ho! Is that_ all _you can say? 'Egh'?"

Slowly, Zetta turned to face Alex. The God of Destruction braced himself, not remotely comfortable with the searing rage in Zetta's eyes. "All right, Alex. Okay. You'll get your duel. But can you put it on hold for _one_ damn minute?"

Alex put on a considering face.

Zetta bared his fangs a moment before speaking. "You'll get the duel to end all duels, Alex, just get the hell out of here and _wait_ for me!"

"Sure, sure," Alex said with an interesting blend of quickness and nonchalance. "Just -y'know, don't let these weeds kill you." After a quick glance at the corn, he thunderbolted away.

Zetta pivoted to face the Colonel, feeling ire suffuse him as thoroughly as his own bloodstream.

"Well now, " the Colonel said. "What's it going to be?"

Zetta gave him another feral snarl. "Your guess is as good as mine, corn."

The Colonel smiled, looking delighted. "So it's true. You're willing to put your son's life in jeopardy?"

"It's your life in jeopardy." Zetta's left hand shot out. Three outpost tents catapulted out of the sky, spinning madly and landing behind Zetta with three rock-shaking crashes. In a moment, he heard Q step to his side. Zetta spoke quickly and quietly. "Don't touch the market. Take out the defenses first."

She smiled evilly.

Zetta gauged the field one more time. This would definitely qualify as tricky. He couldn't imagine how he was going to bring Tez out of this mess while still defeating the Republic. However, there were plenty of veggies to kill, so he should have plenty of time to plan. As for Salome... Zetta didn't think Alex would actually hurt her. Even if Alex wanted to, he probably wasn't strong enough. If Alex proved him wrong...

Zetta raised his sword. Time to do some harvesting.

* * *

Salome lay in the cage, ignoring the aching pain and waiting for Alex to come back. He'd undoubtedly gone to challenge Zetta. Salome's heartbeat quickened. Alex would lose the duel, that much was obvious. And then Zetta would come and get her out of this. Salome pressed her lips together, facing the truth: she was afraid to see Zetta again, afraid to argue again and dig an even wider rift between them. _I worked so hard to be with you, Zetta_. Salome pressed her lips together even more firmly, trying to back away from self-pity.

Then her thoughts turned to Tezzy and grew feverish. How many hours had it been? Her baby must be starving! Anxiety and frustration pushed Salome to her feet just as lightning stabbed through the dungeon and Alex was there.

Salome was taken aback. She hadn't expected this. Alex was alone and looked perfectly fine, not at all as though he'd come from a duel. "What happened?" she demanded, voice ringing through the stone room.

Alex was breathing a bit hard, radiating anger. He gave Salome a long look. Salome narrowed her eyes in answer. The two of them had never had a loving relationship, she having always been on Zetta's side, he emphatically not. However, things had only deteriorated ever since that day the nearly-dead Salome had easily beaten Alex in their own duel.

So Alex took his own time in answering. "We've both been cheated."

Salome was several inches taller than Alexander, and she made a point of looking down at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Lord Zetta." Alex gave a short laugh. "He's... not coming. Couldn't be bothered with a duel." Abruptly, Alex winced and turned away, hiding his face from her. However, Salome was no longer focusing on him.

_Not coming?_ she repeated, her legs shaking. Her nails dug into her palms. "No-" she whispered. "NO!"

Alex turned to see Salome's red eyes widen with fear. Alex wasn't an exceptionally intuitive individual, but even he could see that his message terrified her more than he did himself. His shame at misrepresenting the truth flared -then began to fade.

"Alex!" Salome shouted. "He told you he wouldn't come?"

Alex didn't say anything.

Salome's mind was screaming. _I've lost him!_

And because Salome was such a powerful Overlord, but more importantly, because every nerve in her body and soul was surging with emotion and energy, and because any Mana Alexander could possess was ultimately no match for hers, the bars on the cage snapped apart.

* * *

Zetta came to a dead halt in the slaughter and tossed his sword over his left shoulder. The pumpkin fighters came up short. Was this his way of surrendering?

No, it was Zetta's way of initiating one of his more powerful moves. The Zetta Sword swung hilt over point, hilt over point up through the air until it came to rest in midair, tilted to a precise trajectory towards the Colonel. In a few moments, the sword glowed red, the sky glowed red, and about thirty swords plunged out of the clouds towards the veggie defenders.

When the ground ceased shaking and the smoke began to clear, Zetta, sword back in hand, lead the way past the ruins of the trenches, up the shattered steps of the temple.

The Colonel watched from under the shadow of the market as Zetta commenced carving his way through the lines of tanks. Ah, it wasn't enough, was it? It was never enough to halt the swift juggernaut of absolute evil.

Zetta's witches were casting volley after volley of fire spells, cloaking the terrain in smoke. Through the turmoil of whirring wheels, rattling guns, and exploding rock, Zetta heard a woman frantically screaming his name.

Zetta swiped off the head of pumpkin and turned. In a moment, his sword was back up again.

"No! Don't! I'll help you!"

"Damn you -help yourself to _this_!"

Trixabella just barely dodged the sword thrust aimed at her chest. A tide of smoke from a nearby fire rolled in between them momentarily, obscuring Zetta's vision. When the smoke pulled away, Zetta jumped a step backwards. "Salome?"

His wife was standing opposite him, frowning with a troubled look on her face. In a moment, she'd looked past him to assess the battle.

"What are you doing here? I thought Alex had captured -Wait. No, wait." Zetta took a gulp of breath, trying to collect himself. "I see it now. You were testing me! You're really Trixabella! You wanted to see if I'd be true to you, and now I've passed the test!"

Salome was looking at him again. "What?"

Zetta let it go. "Okay, fine, you're not. But -where'd she go?" He glanced around, not seeing a single trace of purple anywhere. "How'd you get free of Alex?"

Salome's quick mind was on other matters. "Zetta, what's going on? Corn's popping about every three seconds out of that market. Why haven't you taken it down?"

Zetta recalled that he was furious. "The damn corn have stolen Tez! They're holding him hostage in the market! They want me to surrender!"

Salome gripped his arm so hard it actually hurt. "Zetta! You-" She'd stepped right up at him, staring hard into his face, her eyes wide with fear. "What are you -You aren't going to-"

Zetta looked away. He knew what his decision would be, but he couldn't face anyone, not even Salome, when he made it. Rage surged through him. "Don't worry. No one's going to hurt our child."

* * *

Salome released Zetta's arm as he strode towards the next line of corn mages that had shot out of the market. Salome felt no elation, only despair. Their son would be safe, but Zetta-

If the corn didn't take their revenge through a mass execution, losing his Netherworld through conquest would undo Zetta. He'd spent the many centuries of his life building power; now, for all his Mana, he would be reduced to the level of a vassal. But what choice could he make? Their helpless baby was at the mercy of their enemies.

Salome noticed a black, pumpkin-driven tank rattling up to her. With a shriek of pure fury, she withdrew the Immortal Edge and lunged towards her foe.


	9. Chapter 9

9

Zetta had almost lost sight of the market through the haze of fire, smoke and the constant sprays of blood and corn pulp. He could feel the battle all around him, not just the fights he was engaged in, but the entire surge of his forces up the ruins. They were slaughtering the vegetable defenders almost effortlessly but-

_A lot of good,_ Zetta seethed._ I could destroy that market a thousand times over, but I can't win this war!_

In a second, he sensed Salome not far from him, expending her powerful Mana to take out a line of corn mages. Six more popped out of the market. How many could that thing hold? Hundreds? Ah, that's right. It was a produce market. It produced produce. Without end.

Zetta set his teeth. As one last tank hurtled towards him, he cut it in half, then raised his arm. He immediately lowered it, to avoid having his hand shot off. "LISTEN UP, CORN!"

When you shout at it loud enough, corn will listen to you. Quickly, the sounds of battle rumbled away. Zetta cast his gaze through the debris, aware that everyone still standing was watching him. Zetta contemplated the carnage, the mashed pumpkin, shredded carrot, scattered corn kernels. Some vegetables had been stabbed, some had been smashed, some had been slashed. Zetta had no illusions. The only question in his mind was how exactly the corn would exact their revenge. He gripped his sword, maybe for the last time before he was forced to drop it.

_Damn. This was never supposed to happen._

"Where are you, cornface?" Zetta demanded, searching for the Colonel.

"Hey, you! Show yourself!" Zetta shouted.

"What the hell? Where are you? I didn't see you killed!" Zetta insisted. "Are you finally afraid to face me?"

Slowly, the Colonel dragged himself into view from the shadow of the produce market. "I'm -willing to face you..."

He was covered in blood, jagged chunks ripped out of his body, kernels splattered and scattered. But he was still smiling. "Are you...ready to surrender? Go on. We're all ears."

Zetta took a deep breath.

A gigantic scream rose up from the produce market, a huge wail, a sound so loud it seemed to weigh down the air. It was quickly joined by two other sounds, Salome's shriek and Zetta's shout of outrage.

"What the hell are you doing, you glorified corn flake? I'm going to kill you-"

But the Colonel looked just as surprised. He turned to look at the market. "What was-?"

While the air was still resonating from the first scream, a second rose up, shaking the market itself. In another moment, the market convulsed and shot out three ears of corn, yelling, arms and legs flailing. They landed with three thuds and each bounced three times.

The Colonel was grinding his teeth. "Primus! Secundus! Tertius!"

"C-Colonel," Primus puffed, then went silent.

"Why-" The Colonel narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell are you three covered in acid?"

Little puddles of something yellowy-brown were bubbling all over the three. Secundus opened his eyes and looked hopelessly up. "It's...not acid."

Tertius gasped in pain. "Demon snot."

"There's no stopping him," Primus spoke up. "Dribbling everywhere. And casting low-level fire Mana. He's wrecked two corn fields."

A vast explosion sounded from the interior of the corn market. Salome screamed.

"Crap!" said Zetta. "We have to discipline that kid before he incinerates himself!" Zetta took a running start and leapt into the produce market.

Gah! He was _surrounded_ by corn! Zetta started hacking right and left -thought better of it -grabbed one small corn by the silky tassels at the top of its head and shouted into its little yellow face: "Where's the kid?"

"Th-The Malevolent Devil Tot?" the corn peeped.

Zetta's rancor melted a moment. Malevolent Devil Tot? The little peanut, he was already earning a reputation. Mana spells at this age? And acid snot? Talk about an ace up the sleeve! Took after his dad, of course. Wait, yeah, have to _find_ the kid.

"_Yes_, the Malevolent Devil Tot!"

The corn pointed with one tiny arm. "He's -he's over there." Then it clasped its little hands and wailed, "Have mercy, Supreme Overlord!"

"Sure." Zetta tossed the tiny ear of corn over his left shoulder and plowed through the mess of vegetables. It was dark, no arguing about that. He was vaguely aware of some small garden plots, all bristling with growing corn, as well as some weapon and armor outfitters. Zetta set them all on fire as he passed.

Zetta came up a bit short for just a moment as there was a third resounding scream. As soon as the kernels ceased flying in all directions and his eardrums stopped writhing in pain, Zetta clearly heard the sound of his infant son sneezing.

"Who's still got a cold?" Zetta asked. "Who's so damn powerful he started terrorizing corn before he could even sit up on his own?" Zetta followed the sneezes to a quaint little wicker basket in one corner of the market, its rim haloed in flames. Zetta cut the fire spell and peered in.

Tez coughed, wiped his nose with one finger and commenced making grabbing gestures for Zetta.

There was a loud bang, and Zetta popped out of the produce market, Tezzy under his arm. "All right!" he was shouting, even before he'd landed, "who's going to be surrendering _now_, corn?"

Zetta was almost knocked flat as Salome collided with him, scrabbling for the baby. Zetta handed Tez over while scanning the field. A wave of corn was rolling away through the forest, fleeing his wrath. Zetta grinned. There wasn't much he liked better than seeing people flee his wrath.

After he'd torched everything that could be torched within a square mile (all of his warriors were huddled on the stone temple steps), Zetta ordered the witches to put out the blaze with ice spells. This yielded about three hundred servings of overdone corn on the cob.

"Zetta," Salome said between clenched teeth, "get rid of the soldiers. I_ really_ need to nurse!"

Zetta turned and set the produce market pleasantly on fire before ordering his battle monkeys to search the jungle for any survivors or outposts. "No, don't bother with an honor guard, we don't_ need_ it."

When it was just the three of them, Salome perched on a ruined pillar and commenced nursing. There was silence for just a moment. Tezzy sighed with contentment. Salome spoke, her voice a bit vague. Making conversation for its own sake. "I'm glad his snot isn't acidic to us." She ran her fingers across his fine, soft baby skin, checking for damage. "We need to get back to camp and change his diaper."

"So, how did you get away from Alex?" Zetta asked, watching them.

Salome's head jerked up for a moment, then she looked down again.

"What? Aren't you going to answer?"

Salome looked out straight ahead, not at him. "Why wouldn't you come?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you tell Alex you weren't going to come?" Her teeth clenched behind her lips. "Didn't you care?"

"_What?"_

Salome glanced at him sidelong. "Alex said that you weren't coming."

"Alex is smoking something! I said I was going to deal with the corn first, _then_ come over and shellac his sorry ass! What, did you want me to abandon Tezzy?"

"Alex said- " Salome's eyes blazed. "He lied to me? Dammit, I should've killed him!"

"What, er, did you do?"

Salome caressed Tezzy's ear. "He's probably busy right now getting his legs sewed back on."

"I'll give him a day or two to recover, " Zetta decided. "_Then_ I'll go over and shellac his ass." Zetta noticed, at this point, Salome was still avoiding any eye contact. He frowned. Okay, no looking. Something had to be wrong. What the hell could be wrong? The baby was safe. She was safe. He was safe. The Netherworld was safe. Zetta thought harder. What on earth was up with her? Dammit, that was the problem with human females. Female demons, being so high-strung and tempermental, never gave you the silent treatment, but human women, they held things in, they brooded, they refused to tell you what was wrong and didn't give you a split-second's peace until you magically figured it out-

Oh yeah. Female demons. Trixabella.

Zetta shifted his weight. He'd been willing to surrender his Netherworld to save Tezzy's life, but he sure as hell didn't want to grovel to his wife when he hadn't done a thing wrong.

Zetta cleared his throat. "Erm, Salome-"

The jungle shook as a bolt of lightning descended from on high, impacted and revealed Alex, staring irately at them. Alex on crutches with each of his legs in a large cast. Salome jumped and ripped Zetta's cape from his shoulders, covering her front with it.

Zetta crossed his arms. "What? Do you want to duel me like _that_? Or are you here to apologize?"

"I'm never here to apologize," Alex retorted, leaning on his crutches. "I'm just here to tell you that when we do face off, I'll be using what's left of you to caulk my windows!"

"Hah! Not until I use your brains to make taco salad!"

"Not until I use your teeth to edge my flower beds!"

"Not until I use your hair to stuff my pillows!"

"Not until I use your ears to-"

"Alex!" a woman's voice wailed through the jungle. "What have you done to him, you monster!" And thus did Trixabella come running out of the jungle into the open.

In a moment, Zetta and Salome were busily deciding which would be the best spell to annihilate her with. However, Alex wavered on his crutches, eyes wide. "Trixabella?"

"Alex!" she whispered, tears in her eyes. "What happened?"

"Djuh...oh no."

"Oh Alex," she mourned, "are you in a lot of pain? Will a kiss make it better?"

"Gah! No! Not in front of-"

"Don't worry, I'll help you. I'll make sure no one-"

"Wait a minute," Zetta broke in. "You told me you hated him. You told me you wanted me to protect you from him." Zetta stopped then, trying to figure out the correct syntax of that last sentence.

"Alex," Trixabella cooed contritely, "I'm sorry I left. Maybe you were cruel, but no one could be as cruel as Lord Zetta. Please take me back."

Alexander, like a good male demon, was backing frantically away from commitment. "Ergh -agh - um... Zetta, I -I gotta go!" There was a roar of thunder, and he was gone.

Zetta turned incredulously to Trixabella. "What the hell? If you're so hung up on High Voltage Creep, why were you trying to seduce_ me_?"

Trixabella sighed and studied her nails. "It's one of the oldest ploys in the book. Alex just wouldn't come to any definite decision about our relationship. We've been together a whole four months. I was trying to make him jealous by loving up his rival."

"You _weren't_ loving me up!" Zetta insisted, darting a quick look at his beloved Salome. "You were trying! But I resisted you!"

Trixabella sighed again. "Well, yeah. Just as well. It doesn't seem to have affected Alex much, and I wasn't really interested in you."

The sound effects crew inserted the sound of an anvil falling on a grand piano.

"You what?" Zetta repeated incredulously. "You weren't _interested _in me?"

Trixabella smiled dreamily. "Maybe Alex will take me back when I tell him about how passionately you kissed me. How you took me in your arms and said, 'Trixabella, you are the cayenne in my coffee and the strychnine in my stew.'"

"I never kissed you!" But Trixabella had already disappeared, in search of her true love.

Zetta whirled to face Salome.

She was smiling.

"Hah!" Zetta said, still a little rattled by the idea that Trixabella hadn'tbeen burning with desire for him. "So you believe me now!"

She nodded. "Your voice only gets that high-pitched when you're genuinely upset. You couldn't be faking."

"My voice isn't high!" Zetta squealed indignantly. He took a few moments to clear his throat and settle his voice back into its normal register.

Salome's face was serious again. "I'm sorry, Zetta." She looked away. "I should've given you the benefit of the doubt."

"_Yes,"_ Zetta agreed.

"You wouldn't forsake me."

"_No,"_ Zetta insisted, feeling pretty damn good about himself.

Salome smiled. "Are you going to forgive me?"

Zetta glanced over the jungle, smiling himself. "Maybe someday."

* * *

Huff -!

Puff -!

Hu...hu... HUFF!

P-p-p-pUFF!

Don't - worry -Kitt -I -think -I -can -smell -Master -up -ahead!

I -think -I -see - Kiboodl!- It's -puff! - Master -and Mommy -and Puppy!

I -see -them -too!

Are -they -safe?

I -wheeze! -don't -know. Master's -eating -Mommy's face -again.

Oh -puff! Well -she -seems -to -like -that, so -I -guess -things -are -okay.

Zetta and Salome jumped apart as Kitt dropped out of the tall trees of the jungle without a sound, landing in a heap of ash. In a minute, Kiboodl hauled himself into view and flopped down next to his brother. There was a faint chorus of yaps.

Are -we -good pets, Mommy?

We're -good pets, Kiboodl.

Yap...yap...yap.

* * *

Elsewhere the tiny corn was still peeping. "He showed me mercy! Maybe he truly is a just lord!"

The Colonel, battered and bleeding, bowed low. "Oh, great one. We failed through our own incompetence. We should have come to you first."

"Yes," whimpered Primus, covered in bandages.

"Indeed," whimpered Secundus, spreading Neosporin over his wounds.

"Fer sure," whimpered Tertius, waiting for Secundus to hurry up.

The great corn, the feared enemy known to Lord Zetta only as That One, settled back in his chair. "Do not worry, my disciples. Our time will come. We need only the patience to wait for it."

"Indeed," That One's greatest friend and ally agreed. King Drake the Third smiled. He would back That One in all things. After all, they were old school friends.

The Colonel looked out the window of Drake's palace out into the cosmos, out to where Zetta's Netherworld was a small red spark in the darkness.


End file.
